


Never Forget

by frankievera02



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hospital, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Autism, Autism Spectrum, Bigotry & Prejudice, Cancer, Depression, Doctors & Physicians, Family, Friendship, Gen, Hospitalization, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Hwang Hyunjin & Yang Jeongin | I.N are Siblings, Insomnia, Insomniac Bang Chan, Leukemia, Nurses & Nursing, Past Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychologists & Psychiatrists, Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt, i am not a doctor so please don't come at me, if any of these things will trigger you don't read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:48:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 37,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25177174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frankievera02/pseuds/frankievera02
Summary: “Is this Lee Felix?” Chan asked, glancing at the file on his desk before peering at the patient, in hopes the young man would return the favor.“Yes, Dr. Bang. I’ll warn you he’s barely said a word since he was admitted. He seems very uncomfortable in this environment.” said the nurse.“Most patients are in their first few days. Why don’t you come in, Felix, and take a seat?”—A Hospital AU where Chan is a clinical psychologist, Minho is a nurse, and Changbin and Jisung are Chan’s interns.(edited)
Relationships: Bang Chan & Lee Felix, Hwang Hyunjin & Seo Changbin, Hwang Hyunjin & Yang Jeongin | I.N
Comments: 86
Kudos: 220





	1. are you insane like me?

**Author's Note:**

> Before you read... 
> 
> 1\. READ THE TAGS! I don't want to trigger anyone.  
> 2\. Please consider the fact that I AM NOT A DOCTOR. All of the information I used to write this fic was based off of the research I did. There will most likely be some mistakes so please don't come at me.  
> 3\. I hope you enjoy! :-)

_ “FAMOUS MODEL HWANG HYUNJIN FOUND UNCONSCIOUS AT CONVENIENCE STORE _

_ On Saturday evening, 23-year-old Jung Bon Hwa was starting the night shift at a local convenience store when she heard a thump. Checking to see what had happened, she noticed a person had collapsed and that the person was none other than 25-year-old Hwang Hyunjin, the face of one of Korea’s top entertainment companies. Jung claims his “nose was bleeding heavily” and he “looked pale.”  _

_ Sources have yet to reveal what caused the model to collapse. He was rushed to Yellow Wood Hospital, where he is receiving treatment.”  _

Chan scrolled past the article, rolling his eyes at how nosy journalists seemed to be when it came to the lives of celebrities. As a clinical psychologist working at one of the top hospitals in Seoul, Chan had seen many celebrities and even spoken to a couple of them. As a healthcare worker, Chan had grown to realize that celebrities were just as human as the rest of the population. Having cameras shoved in their face and perfect bodies didn’t make them any less likely to have emotions or struggles. 

He was flipping to the next article on his phone when there was a knock at the door, followed by a turn of the doorknob. In the hallway stood a nurse, beside an orange-haired patient whose dark roots were beginning to show. The patient’s thin arms were hidden behind his back as he stared down at the floor. 

“Is this Lee Felix?” Chan asked, glancing at the file on his desk before peering at the patient, in hopes the young man would return the favor. 

“Yes, Dr. Bang. I’ll warn you he’s barely said a word since he was admitted. He seems very uncomfortable in this environment.” said the nurse. 

“Most patients are in their first few days. Why don’t you come in, Felix, and take a seat?” 

Reluctantly, Felix began to slowly walk into the room, gaze turned away from Chan as he silently sat in the chair across from Chan’s desk. Chan read through the file again, noting any information that might possibly help him understand him. 

**_Patient Name:_ ** _ Lee Felix Yong Bok  _

**_Patient Age:_ ** _ 22  _

**_Cause for Admittance:_ ** _ attempted suicide, signs of depression, self harm/injury  _

**_Emergency Contact Information:_ ** _ N/A  _

“Felix doesn’t sound like a Korean name to me.” Chan said before switching to English. “Where are you from?” 

Felix looked up, hands folded in his lap, and met Chan’s gaze. His eyes were round and glazed over, and his wrists were bandaged. He had freckles sprinkled across his cheeks and nose. Something about him seemed familiar to Chan in a way he couldn’t pinpoint. 

“Australia.” Felix muttered in a thick accent, his voice deeper than his appearance set Chan to believe. 

“So am I! What a coincidence.” Chan said, smiling brightly at the young man, who only nodded slightly. “I usually don’t allow this, but since it’s not every day I run into another Aussie, you don’t have to call me Dr. Bang. You can call me Chris. That’s my birth name.” 

Felix only nodded again. 

“What part are you from? I grew up in Sydney.” 

“I moved around a lot.” His voice was so quiet Chan had trouble making out what he said at first. He sounded almost ashamed to admit it. 

“That’s alright, mate. It’s a little boring staying in one place. That’s why I came to Korea.” Chan noticed that Felix seemed to relax slightly at his words, as if he had expected the psychologist to judge him or interrogate him about his childhood. “What brought you here, if you don’t mind me asking? You don’t have to answer if you aren’t comfortable. I’m just trying to keep the conversation going.” 

Felix shifted in his seat, tensing back up again. He looked away from Chan then back up at him so that they were making eye contact. Chan felt his skin crawl for a moment—not because the boy frightened or disturbed him, but rather because the familiarity only increased as the seconds passed. The doctor pushed the déjà vu to the back of his mind because he really didn’t want to think about it. 

“I was just tired of it there. I wanted to leave.” Felix said, clearly hiding something. It was dripping from his body language and Chan knew it, but Chan was also a medical professional and he knew how to handle the situation. 

“It _ is _ hot down there. I don’t blame you. I nearly got heat stroke a number of times just being outside.” 

Felix didn’t say anything. 

“You know, Felix, you don’t have to be afraid of anyone here, especially me. Everything you could ever tell me here is confidential. Our main goal is to get you feeling better. Does that sound alright to you?” 

Felix nodded and his eyes met Chan’s again, sending a wave of nausea through his stomach. What was it about this patient? 

“I don’t speak Korean very well.” he said. 

“Don’t worry about it. I was awful when I first moved here. My parents were both Korean, but it’s pretty difficult to familiarize yourself with a language when you haven’t been surrounded by it. You’ll get better.” 

The rest of the session was pretty uneventful. Felix barely said a word and Chan continued to ramble about different types of food he enjoyed in Australia, trying to set the mood. When Felix stood up to leave after the hour was up, Chan observed the way he walked. The way he kept his head down and his hands behind his back, revealing the scars that littered his forearms. Chan had seen it before. He had seen patients who had done far worse to their bodies and were far less cooperative, but Felix was different. Seeing his bandages made Chan’s wrists itch. Seeing his hopelessness made Chan’s heart hurt. 

And the feelings didn’t go away. Even as he was meeting with other patients and talking with other doctors, they didn’t go away. Even as he was giving advice to his two interns, Changbin and Jisung, they didn’t go away. Chan couldn’t help but feel as though something inside him was coming back—something that was supposed to have left years before. 

_ “So what brings you to Korea, Chan?”  _

_ The words went into one ear and out the other. He just couldn’t understand.  _

_ “I don’t care if you’re staying or leaving. It doesn’t matter to me. It doesn’t matter to anyone.” _

“Dr. Bang, Changbin-hyung is ruining my mental state with his insults!” complained the younger intern, raising the tone of his voice so that he sounded like a child. 

“I’m your boss, not your dad. Be adults and figure it out on your own.” Chan said. 

“I said you look like a squirrel when you eat, that’s not even an insult!” Changbin argued, exasperatedly. 

“You’re gonna be a licensed psychologist soon and you bully me! What kind of person are you?” 

Chan sighed and looked up from his files as the two interns, who were sitting at the other end of Chan’s office, eating their lunch. 

“You guys have both college and graduate school degrees and you’re arguing like little kids. You’re at work, act like it.” 

Although Chan’s tone was stern, everyone in the room knew that he cared a lot about his interns. They were his students, practically, that he would prepare for their jobs in the real world. He remembered his own transition from his residency to becoming a licensed clinical psychologist—how he had turned to his boss for advice, only to realize that nobody was there, and that he had to make decisions on his own for the benefit of his patients and his career. It was his duty to make sure Changbin and Jisung were competent before being let loose. 

“Well, at least I don’t have a scary face. And at least I’m not short.” Jisung muttered, causing the slightly older intern to roll his eyes and stand up. 

“I’m done with this guy,” he said, pointing at the snickering man (if he could even be called that at this point). “I’ll see you later, Sungie.” 

Changbin looked scary, but he was the exact opposite. His largest insecurity stepping into the hospital was the possibility that patients would feel too intimidated by him to open up. Chan was able to teach him a few body-language habits that would make him appear more welcoming, and his personality won most patients over at sometime or other. Changbin had sharp facial features and a gruff voice, but he was a softie. 

“What am I going to do with you, Jisung-ah?” Chan said, smirking slightly, so as to lighten the mood but not encourage the intern’s behavior. 

“Sorry, Dr. Bang.” Jisung said, bowing to his supervisor. 

“Go work on your data set. Don’t forget it’s due Friday.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

Chan took pride in his strategies of supervising—making his interns believe that he is kind and understanding while also keeping a level of fear in their heads that keeps them bowing and calling him “sir.” He had found the perfect balance. It was no wonder the psych ward had allowed the fairly new doctor to hold such an important role. He seemed to have a knack for leadership. 

When Chan left the hospital that evening, he had more trouble than usual compartmentalizing between his work life and personal life. Usually, he would walk back to his apartment feeling as though a weight were lifted off his shoulders, allowing him to relax until he stepped back into his office at nine the next morning, but as he passed by the streets and shops he saw on a daily basis, all he could think about was Felix. He was analyzing everything about him, from what he remembered about his body language to his way of speaking. The way he looked both innocent and experienced at the same time. The way his eyes stared off into space in a form of apathy that was so familiar to Chan. It was fake apathy—apathy he had forced onto himself to work as a shield from his true emotions. 

Orange hair. Felix was probably a creative person. Or maybe not. Orange hair, leaving Australia without a basic understanding of the Korean language, claiming that he had left because he was “just tired of it.” Symptoms of depression. Suicide attempt. Self-harm. Chan understood completely and he hated it. He didn’t want to assume things, but he just couldn’t help it. Felix had to be running away from something. Either that or he was dissatisfied and erratic, wanting more and taking extreme risks without thinking through the consequences. 

_ When he warms up to me, I’ll focus on his life in Australia, _ Chan thought to himself.  _ A lot of times depressive episodes and thoughts of suicide are more than just a mental disorder. They could be trauma-induced.  _

Chan punched the code into the door and waited for the beep, turning the knob and stepping inside. He could hear the sound of the television playing loudly from the living room, remembering that Minho didn’t have a shift that day. 

“Chan-hyung?” called his friend. “Is that you?” 

Chan kicked off his shoes and responded, “Yeah, it’s me!” 

“How was work?” 

Chan flopped down on the couch beside his friend, who had his three cats either sitting on him or sitting beside him. 

“Oh, the usual.” Chan lied. 

“You say that every day. I wish I knew what ‘the usual’ even was.” 

Chan chucked and said, “I do, too. But you know perfectly well that no two patients are the same.” 

“When’s Yujun-hyung supposed to be getting off?” 

Chan bit his lip. “Seven, I think? He told me he had a twelve hour shift today. I couldn’t imagine having to work sixty-five hours a week like he does. Seems a bit unhealthy to me.” 

Minho stroked his cat’s fur and said, “You know hyung loves it, though. He just loves people.” 

Yujun worked with cancer patients. He didn’t have the most pleasant of jobs. He dealt with denial, crying relatives, and the patients that wouldn’t make it. But, somehow, he still left work each day with a smile on his face knowing that he had done all he could to support and give answers to people going through tough times. Chan definitely wouldn’t have been able to do it. 

Chan’s wrist itched again and he was reminded of Felix. He tried to block it out and focus on the drama that Minho had been watching, but his thoughts grew deeper and deeper. He started coming up with scenarios—pieces of Felix’s past that had never been confirmed. Abuse, bullying, missed opportunities, ruined reputations. Fleeing to Korea in attempts to patch together what remained of his potential. Realizing he had gone through the trouble of moving for nothing and feeling lost. Depressed. Suicidal. 

“Hyung? Are you okay?” Minho asked, snapping Chan back into reality. 

“Huh? Oh, yeah, I’m fine.” Chan said, suddenly alert. He noticed that Minho didn’t seem convinced. 

“Are you sure you’ve been getting enough sleep lately? Don’t tell me your insomnia’s coming back.” 

“It’s fine, Minho. I was just thinking about one of my patients. It’s no big deal.” 

Minho shook his head and commented, “I could never be a psychologist. Having to deal with people’s issues and try to help them. It’s not quite as simple as putting an IV in someone’s arm or taking someone’s vitals.” 

“It’s interesting, though. And when you end up helping someone, it’s rewarding.” 

Minho just shook his head again, smirking. 

* * * * *

“Hwang Hyunjin? Take a seat.” 

Yujun looked from the file before him to the man walking into the room and smiled. The model had already been informed of his diagnosis and he was meeting with Yujun, his medical oncologist, to set up a treatment plan. Hyunjin sat in the chair across from Yujun’s desk, looking uncomfortable. He twiddled his thumbs and bit his lip, looking at the doctor with nervous eyes. 

“How are you today?” Yujun asked out of courtes, not expecting Hyunjin to speak from the heart. 

“I’m alright for the circumstances, I guess.” Hyunjin responded. “How are you?” 

“Oh, I’m fine, thanks.” Yujun flipped through his records. “So, you’ve been diagnosed with Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia. This type of cancer affects the blood and bone marrow, so it’s a little bit more complicated than a procedure to remove a tumor. It is important that we begin treatment as soon as possible because of how quickly this type of cancer progresses. Do you have any questions about the disease that haven’t been covered yet?” 

Hyunjin shook his head, looking significantly paler than he had when he’d stepped into the room. Yujun couldn’t help but feel sad looking at him, having recognized him for his modelling career. He figured it must be difficult for celebrities with illnesses to open up to the public about them. Hyunjin would have to take time off work, and he would probably worry about his appearance as he went through treatment. Each time a patient walked into Yujun’s office, he felt as though he, himself, were being diagnosed with cancer and it hurt his heart. 

“Fortunately for you, you’re young and otherwise healthy. The remission rates for adults with ALL range from seventy-five percent to ninety percent, and the three-year survival rate is around twenty-five to fifty percent. Take into account these statistics were taken over a wide range of adults and a lot of them were not as young or healthy as you are.” 

Hyunjin only nodded as though afraid to speak. He swallowed, and each time he blinked, the movements looked like violent twitches. His hands were shaking. 

“The general treatment plan for ALL consists of a few phases. The first phase is called Induction Therapy, where we kill the majority of leukemia cells in the blood and bone marrow. This phase is what people typically imagine when they think of cancer treatment. A common form of Induction Therapy is chemotherapy, which you’ve probably heard of. We usually administer the drug through an IV, and a lot of patients will get a port put in their chest so that they can avoid the hassle and risk of infection associated with pricking their skin each time they receive their chemo. 

“The next three phases are called Consolidation Therapy, Maintenance Therapy, and, optionally, further treatment to the spinal cord that can prevent any future spread of the leukemia cells. These all work to destroy any of the remaining cancer cells and prevent them from regrowing.” 

Hyunjin didn’t say anything as Yujun continued to explain the risks and benefits of chemotherapy. He explained to him how long the process would take, as well as the symptoms he would experience throughout the treatment process. By the time Yujun slid the form over to Hyunjin where he would sign in order to formally agree to the treatment plan Yujun had set up, the young model hadn’t said a single word. His eyes looked glazed over and his body was tense. He lifted a trembling hand and wrapped his fingers around the pin set before him, slowly beginning to sign in spidery cursive. He paused, staring at the paper for a few more seconds. 

And then he started to cry. 

“This can’t be happening…” he choked out, leaning forward so that his hair hid his eyes. Tears fell to his lap as he sniffled and shook. 

“You have a good chance of making it through, Hyunjin.” Yujun said, trying to sound as understanding as possible. “Cancer is never easy or simple, and it’s definitely scary, but one of the most important things you can do right now is stay positive and take this all one step at a time.” 

“No, I can’t be sick… I can’t be in the hospital…” His voice broke more and more as he continued to speak. He looked up at Yujun, revealing red eyes and a wet face. “I have a little brother… Jeongin… He’s still in high school and I have to take care of him. I can’t be sick… He needs me…” 

“The most important thing right now is your health, and as doctors and nurses we’ll do everything we can to help you.” 

Yujun’s words were no use. Hyunjin continued to cry and Yujun continued to sit in there with him, allowing him to calm down in peace. Sure, he loved helping people, but it was never easy. 

He walked home from work that evening expecting a quiet night with his roommates (well, as quiet as possible, considering he lived with Bang Chan and Lee Minho), only to see a different face. It was a face he wasn’t supposed to see until that weekend. 

“H-hyung…” choked out the person, blood dripping from their split lip and a bruise already beginning to form on their cheekbone. 

“Minnie, what happened?” Yujun asked, crouching in front of the distressed boy and inspecting his wounds in the dim light. “Come inside, I’ll have Minho look at your injuries.” 

“It’s no use doing anything about it…” Seungmin said, grimly, as Minho was handing him a bag of frozen peas to hold on his cheekbone. He had already cleaned and tended to the cut on the college student’s lip. “The last time I told the university or the police, they just laughed in my face. I guess it’s funny to them that someone would get harassed for having autism.” 

Another tough situation. Seungmin was Yujun’s younger brother, who had spent the entirety of his life dealing with prejudice and bullying surrounding his autism. It didn’t seem to matter to the boy’s peers that he was high-functioning, or that he no longer had meltdowns, because the way he spoke and his trouble understanding sarcasm were just “too funny.” 

“They called me retarded…” Seungmin said, sniffling. “And they just hit me for no reason. And they ran away laughing like it was some sort of game…” 

“Do you know their names?” Chan asked, anger painted on his face. They were all angry—especially Yujun. 

“No. I don’t have any classes with them. I don’t even know how they know me. I guess they must have heard the rumors or something. Even college students think it’s funny to taunt me.” 

Yujun remembered teaching his younger brother about human anatomy when he was in college and the boy had been in middle school. Seungmin remembered all of it so quickly and so efficiently, showing so much interest in the subject. All through high school, he knew he wanted to become a doctor, just like his brother. And then he walked home from school one day with his head lowered and a frown on his face. His classmates had told him that someone with autism could never be a good doctor—that he’s “too awkward” to connect with a patient. 

It seemed that regardless of what the kid did, he couldn’t catch a break. 

“Do you want to spend the night here, Minnie? You can sleep on the fold-out couch like last time.” Yujun offered. Seungmin shook his head. 

“I’ve got class at eight tomorrow. I’ll have to go back.” Seungmin seemed almost nervous. 

“Why don’t you call Soobin and ask him to pick you up?” 

“He’s probably sleeping, hyung.” 

“Minho will drive you, then.” 

Minho would have shot Yujun a look if it weren’t dark out and Seungmin hadn’t come into their house injured, in tears. He only ruffled the boy’s hair, causing him to stiffen at the physical contact, and said, “Come on, kid.” 

Yujun felt a pang of guilt as Seungmin left with Minho. 

“Why don’t you get something to eat, Yujun?” Chan asked. Yujun just nodded, stepping toward the fridge to look for leftovers to heat up in the microwave. 

“Good idea, Channie.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from "Gasoline" by Halsey.


	2. i see me in you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just another quick note that I'm not a doctor or a psychologist, and everything in this story is based off of the research I've done individually. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy! :D

“What kind of things do you like to do in your free time?” 

Chan peered across the desk at the orange-haired boy, who was leaning back in his chair with a worn-out look in his eyes. He reacted slowly to Chan’s words, raising his gaze after a few seconds and shrugging, looking away again. Usually Chan saw reactions like those with patients who had been medicated, but from what Felix’s doctor had written, the twenty-two-year old had not. 

“There has to be  _ something _ .” Chan said, smiling. “I don’t have a lot of free time, but I like writing music. Does that surprise you? It usually surprises my patients.” 

Felix shrugged again, emotionlessly. 

“When I was younger, I used to swim. You come from Australia, so I assume you’re pretty good at swimming.” 

Felix didn’t say anything. 

“I actually won a few awards when I was on the swim team in high school. Did you do any sports in school?” 

Felix fiddled with his fingers, then made eye-contact with the psychologist again and said, in the same deep voice that surprised Chan each time he heard it, “I thought I was here to talk about my issues with you.” 

Chan smiled at the patient. He could already tell that Felix would have enjoyed talking if he weren’t so distrusting of everyone at the hospital. Something about his shifting gaze and enclosed body language set Chan to believe that Felix didn’t trust very many people—that he probably only had a couple people, or maybe even no one he could share his secrets with. 

“Why do you think you’re here, Felix?” he asked in gentle English with a friendly gaze at the other. 

Felix seemed more tense as he responded, “Because I tried to kill myself. Why else?” 

“That’s only a small part of why you’re here. Why did you feel the need to kill yourself?” 

“I don’t know…” He wanted Chan to think he didn’t care, but he did. He was thinking it through, trying to put his complicated feelings into words. He didn’t want to admit it to himself, but he wanted to trust someone. He wanted to trust  _ Chan _ —probably the only other Australian he’d met in Korea. Chan gave him time to think, only shooting the young adult a welcoming gaze when he peered up at him for a split second. “I just feel…” 

_ Empty, _ Chan thought. 

_ “Empty.” _ Chan had said, years before. 

“Empty.” Felix mumbled, uncomfortably. “Everything’s empty, and there’s nothing to look forward to. It’s all just dark and cold and sad.” 

“It sounds like you’re depressed, Felix. Do you think you’re depressed?” 

Felix shrugged. 

“Do you have trouble finding things you enjoy doing?” 

He nodded. 

“Do you think your life is pointless and you don’t have as much potential as you used to?” 

He nodded again, but added, “I never had potential.”

“Why do you think that, Felix?” 

More life came to Felix’s eyes, despite his efforts to hide it. It was fear, and pain. Chan assumed he had been through some sort of trauma. He was trying to hide something, the sides of his consciousness battling about whether to rid himself of the parasitic secret or keep it inside. 

“I used to dance when I was a kid.” Felix said in a monotone voice. “It was the only thing that didn’t change. It stayed constant. It didn’t leave.” 

“I have a friend who’s a dancer. He’s actually a nurse here, and his name is Lee Minho. Have you met him?” 

Felix shook his head. He seemed surprised at Chan’s strategy of navigating through the conversation. He didn’t try to prod his way into Felix’s childhood. Something in the patient’s face seemed to relax slightly, and Chan could tell they were making progress. 

“Do you still dance now?” Chan asked. 

“No.” Felix said. “I don’t have time.” 

“One of the responsibilities we have to ourselves as adults is balancing our time in healthy ways. Trust me, I’m very familiar with cramming in all the work I possibly can and forgetting about my happiness and mental health. But I only realized that doing that wasn’t helping me. It caused me to burn out. Where do you work, Felix?” 

“Just a restaurant near here. But I have to work long shifts, or else I won’t be able to pay rent. I don’t really like dancing anymore, anyway. There’s not much of a point to it.” 

“Of course there’s a point to dancing. When you were younger, how did it make you feel?” 

“I don’t know… Safe. It made me forget things. It made me feel in control.” 

“Then that’s the point. Money is stressful, especially when you’re living around here, but no amount of stress is strong enough to take away the purpose of the things you care about. And you may feel too tired to dance, or too overwhelmed, and that’s okay. But you should never let yourself believe that dancing is pointless, because if you enjoyed it, and if it meant something to you, that makes it important.” 

Felix didn’t say anything. 

“I don’t know about your past, Felix. I don’t know what happened to make you feel this way. But I do know you seem to have depression, and depression is an illness. Depression doesn’t mean your life is meaningless, it just means your brain chemistry is a little off. It can feel like hell, but that doesn’t mean your life is hell. There’s always a way out, I promise. That’s what we’re working on. Does that make sense to you?” 

Felix nodded. He didn’t look like he believed Chan’s words, but he seemed to understand. 

“You don’t have to be afraid to tell me anything. I won’t force you to say anything you’re uncomfortable with. My job is to take things at your pace, because your comfort and safety is most important. But nothing you say is going to cause me to judge you. There’s nothing in the world you could possibly say that would make me look down on you. Okay?” 

The younger nodded again, before saying, in a quiet voice, “You have depression?” 

Chan usually didn’t talk about his own problems with his patients. He didn’t talk about his own problems with most people. But, occasionally, he would get a patient that needed a way to connect to their doctor—a patient that needed to feel understood and less alone. Who would only let the wall between them and the psychologist crumble with the knowledge that the person treating them went through the same thing. 

So Chan nodded. 

He hid his own discomfort as he responded, “I do. It’s pretty common, and it doesn’t make me any less qualified to be a doctor. I got help, just like you’re doing right now, and now I feel better. You have the potential to feel better, too.” 

Felix made eye contact with Chan again, only letting it linger for longer. Chan felt his insides squirm at the attention, noticing that the patient no longer seemed so tense. He seemed almost relieved. He almost smiled. Felix looked down at Chan’s hands, which the psychologist discovered were shaking slightly. He clenched his fists to ground himself and took a breath, forcing a smile. 

And Felix actually smiled. It was small, but was still there, and it was real. There was something innocent about him. Something almost childlike. 

Maybe Felix needed a role model more than he needed a doctor. He needed someone he could depend on and take advice from. He needed someone he could look up to. 

And that terrified Chan. 

When the orange-haired boy left the office, Chan leaned back into his chair, trying to control his breathing. Why was he so on edge? Emotions shot through his chest—emotions he never thought he would experience again. It brought back images he didn’t want to see. Scary images. Depressing images. Hideous images. His younger self. 

Suddenly, there was a noise that shook Chan out of his thoughts. 

“ _ Dr. Bang— _ ” said Changbin in a loud voice as he pushed through the door. Chan jumped, clutching his chest as he glared up at the now nervous-looking intern. 

“God, Changbin, can you be a little less abrupt? You could give someone a heart attack…” 

Changbin bowed in apology, saying, “Sorry, Dr. Bang. It won’t happen again.” 

“What did you want?” 

“Well, um… You said you’d sit in on one of my sessions? The one at eleven? So, in five minutes?” 

Chan quickly stood up, shaking his head and saying, “Sorry, I lost track of time. Go ahead. I’ll be there in a minute.” 

“Dr. Bang, are you okay?” 

Chan met Changbin’s gaze, noticing the pure, innocent concern on his face. Changbin may have had a rough voice and an intimidating resting face, but he was a sweetheart. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little stressed. Thanks for asking.” 

As Changbin was walking toward the door, Chan noticed something a little off about him, so he called out, “Are  _ you _ okay, Changbin?” 

Changbin turned around and nodded, saying, “Yeah. My best friend has cancer. I’m okay, though.” 

“I’m sorry. If you ever need to talk to someone, you don’t have to be afraid of me.” 

“Thanks, Dr. Bang.” 

* * * * *

“Hi, Hyunjin. How are things going?” 

Yujun stepped into the hospital room, looking forward at the guy who was sitting in the bed with a tube connected to the port in his chest, transferring a fluid into his veins. He looked nervous. By the window sat a young boy, wearing a school uniform. He had a stack of papers on his lap, which he hovered over as if trying to hide his face. The boy’s hands were shaking, and he wasn’t writing anything. 

“Well, I guess there’s no going back now.” Hyunjin said in a pathetic attempt at humor. He couldn’t smile. He just turned his gaze so that it met the boy across the room, who refused to look up. “This is my oncologist, Jeongin-ah. Are you gonna be polite?” 

Jeongin set his papers down beside him and stood, bowing deeply and mumbling in almost incoherent Korean, “Annyeonghaseyo.” 

“Hello. Is it Jeongin?” Yujun said, smiling. 

“Yes, sir.” muttered the boy in an almost whisper. 

“Well, Hyunjin and Jeongin, I was just checking in. I know you both are definitely scared of what’s going to happen, and I don’t blame you. Chemotherapy has a lot of side effects. But Hyunjin has a lot going for him.” Yujun was looking at Jeongin this time, the boy raising his head slightly so that he was gazing at the doctor with wide, tear-filled eyes. He reminded Yujun of Seungmin in a way, and he felt a surge of compassion. Empathy. “He’s young, he’s otherwise very healthy. And he’s got people like you who are willing to stay with him and support him through this.” 

Jeongin started to cry. He buried his face in his knees and shook his head, black bowl-cut shaking with it. Hyunjin looked at his little brother with guilt—helplessness, probably. Yujun saw the pain in his eyes, even if it only lingered for a second before he quickly suppressed, replacing it with forged hope. 

“Don’t cry, Innie.” he said with false strength. “It’ll be okay. It’ll all be okay. We’ll have to make a few changes to our routine, but that’s it. And I’ll recover and everything will go back to normal. Don’t be sad.” 

“I don’t want you to be sick, hyung…” he whispered. 

“I don’t want to be sick, either, but that’s just how things turned out, and that’s okay. Things happen, and we can’t always help it. I’m still going to be here for you, Innie. I’ll do everything I can to keep taking care of you so you won’t have to go back to Mom and Dad.” 

Yujun remembered Seungmin at that age. Sitting stiffly on the couch as their parents threw insults at him. Blocking it all out to keep from overstimulating and having a breakdown or meltdown. Lifting his shaky hands up to his ears as tears spilled out of his eyes, rocking back and forth to ground himself. 

_ “Leave him, alone!” _ Yujun had shouted, only to be slapped. Seungmin had looked up at him with fear in his eyes, begging him to leave—so that he wouldn’t get hurt. 

_ “I’m okay, Minnie.” _ Yujun would say, even when he was stressed out and struggling to get by. Not because he was okay, or because he thought he would be okay. He said it because Seungmin looked at his older brother with a comfort and safety he did with nobody else. In a world that pushed him down and told him he was nothing, Yujun was his shield. Yujun couldn’t give that up. Even if he was dying, he wouldn’t give that up. He wouldn’t let himself collapse, and neither would Hyunjin. 

Yujun looked at Hyunjin and saw himself, and he made it his duty to be there for him. He would do his best to make him feel as safe as he made Jeongin feel. Nature had presented Hyunjin with an obstacle, but Yujun wasn’t going to let it defeat him. That was his job as a doctor. 

“Do doctors usually drop by on their patients during chemo?” Hyunjin asked, bringing the doctor back to reality. 

“I do.” Yujun said. “A lot of doctors think it’s their job to diagnose things and set up treatment plans and it’s the nurses’ job to take care of their patients, but I don’t agree with that. I think a big part of helping a patient is by being there for them as much as I can.” 

It was true. Different patients needed different things from their doctors, and sometimes Yujun’s patients needed a friend. Sometimes he had a patient who was completely alone in life, and hearing his cheerful voice as he checked in on them was the highlight of their days. Sometimes he had a patient who was terrified of their illness, and the only thing to calm their nerves was to know that their doctor knew about how they were feeling and saw them regularly. 

“How old are you, Dr. Kim?” asked Hyunjin, his expression seeming warmer than it had been before. He seemed less afraid. 

“I’m twenty-nine.” 

Hyunjin grinned and said, “Wow. You must be really smart. You’re only a few years older than me. My best friend, Changbin-hyung, is a psychology intern here.” 

Yujun chuckled saying, “Oh, Seo Changbin? I’ve known his supervisor for a long time. Your friend’s in good hands.” 

“You know Dr. Bang?” Hyunjin seemed to be getting a kick out of it. 

“We’re roommates, actually. We’ve been roommates since university.” 

Hyunjin started to laugh. Jeongin’s tears seemed to have dried. The room was brighter all of a sudden. 

“Well, tell your roommate to tell his intern to stop stressing out so much over me. He came in during his lunch break and just burst into tears, apologized for no reason, and left. It was kind of strange.” There was a bittersweet humor to Hyunjin’s voice. It began to morph into something more solemn after a second or two, though. “And tell him to take care of Changbin-hyung. Just to make sure he’s okay, since I’m not really gonna be strong enough to drag him back to his apartment when he overworks himself in the near future.” 

“I’ll make sure to bring it up. Knowing Channie, he’s already dragging those kids around by their ears.” 

Yujun left work later than usual, finishing some things up in his office, and by the time he was walking through the streets of Seoul, toward the apartment he shared with Chan and Minho, it was dark. He quietly stepped through the front door and started to microwave some miscellaneous leftovers he had found in the refrigerator. 

“Chan-hyung’s been working on that same song for the past four hours and it’s really getting on my nerves.” Minho said as he walked into the kitchen, pointing behind him toward Chan’s bedroom. The door was cracked open and the light was on. 

“Oh, you know Channie.” Yujun said, shaking his head. “He won’t sleep until he’s about ready to collapse from exhaustion. ‘Just the way he’s always been.” 

“Yeah, I guess.” 

Minho sat down at the counter, by the oldest of the roommates. He propped his head up on his hand and stared off into space. There was something peaceful about their apartment late into the night, after all of them had worked long shifts. When they were at home, they weren’t Dr. Kim, Dr. Bang, and Nurse Minho. They didn’t wear white coats, collared shirts, and scrubs. They were just Yujun the teddy bear, Chan the insomniac, and Minho the cat-lover. They were just people. 

Yujun looked at Minho’s shirt, which was faded with holes. It had a picture of a cat on it. 

“You had that shirt when we were university students. Why haven’t you dumped it out?” he asked. 

Minho looked down at the article of clothing and smiled, saying, “I figured the more worn out it gets, the more holes it’ll get, and the more likely it’ll show my abs, which gives me a reason to try and get abs in the first place.” 

Yujun and Chan had met in their first year of college. They had been roommates and immediately became the best of friends. In their third year, they moved into a house with several other students, and one of them had been the savage, borderline-evil first year, Lee Minho. At first, he did everything he could to get on Chan’s nerves, and then there had been a night when things went wrong for Chan. Out of hand. It was a night Yujun blocked out of his memory because it hurt too much. Ever since then, Minho made sure Chan knew that all of his sarcastic comments and jokes were simply an indicator that he cared. 

“I can’t believe you’re a nurse, Min.” Yujun said, laughing. “You were  _ cruel _ back in the day.” 

“Fuck off, hyung. The me around my friends is very different from the me around my patients. And, besides, I was younger.” 

“I know. Why don’t you go to bed? You look tired.” 

“Only if you promise to make Chan go to sleep, even if it means shoving one of his insomnia pills down his throat.” 

“It’s a deal.” 

After Minho had left and Yujun had finished eating, the oncologist walked toward Chan’s bedroom, giving the ajar door a gentle knock. When there was no response, he pushed it open, revealing the psychologist. Chan was lying on his back, head lolled onto his shoulder, fast asleep. On the bed beside him sat his open laptop, along with his notebook and mini keyboard. 

_ Oh, Chan… _ Yujun thought, rolling his eyes. 

When he had closed Chan’s laptop and set it down on his desk, along with his notebook, Yujun noticed the psychologist begin to jerk around, mumbling incoherent pieces of English. He would have thought it to be cute if he didn’t soon realize that his friend was hyperventilating with a distressed look on his face. 

“No…” Chan whispered in English. 

“Channie, wake up.” Yujun said, nudging the slightly younger man. When Chan didn’t do as he was told, Yujun started to shake him, saying in a louder voice, “Wake up, Chan.” 

Chan’s eyes shot open and he sat up, suddenly looking very sweaty. The second he caught a glimpse of Yujun’s figure beside his bed, he jumped back, covering his head with his arms. He was shaking. 

“It’s just me, Channie.” Yujun said in a soft voice, concerned. “You’re safe. It’s Yujun.” 

Chan lowered his arms and squinted at his friend through red, tired eyes, his breathing slowing down. Yujun just stood there for a minute or two, waiting for him to calm down. 

“Are you okay?” asked the older of the two. “I don’t think you’ve reacted like this since—” 

Chan cut him off, saying, “It was just a nightmare. I’m fine. You should go to bed.” 

“Promise me you’ll take care of yourself?” 

“Yeah, I promise.” He nodded, shutting his eyes. 

“Okay. I’ll turn the light off on my way out.” 

“Thanks.” 

Typical Chan. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from "I am YOU" by Stray Kids.


	3. you've got a beautiful brain, but it's disintegrating

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another chapter! It's a little shorter than the last two, but it works for the pacing. It'll pick up A LOT as the story progresses. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy! :D

Chan had told his coworkers and residents that his dark circles were genetic, and not, in fact, a result of sleep-deprivation (whether they believed it or not). He told them that he  _ totally _ got enough sleep each night, and that he didn’t stay up for hours on end, frustrated, questioning all of his life decisions in the midst of his ruthless insomnia. If they could read the lie, they didn’t point it out. So Chan was able to easily walk into work that day, guzzling a cup of coffee, eyes dry and red from the three measly hours of sleep he had gotten the night before (and don’t think those hours weren’t spread throughout the miserable night as he tossed and turned, sleeping for thirty or so minutes at a time). 

He made his way into his office, shutting the door behind him so that he would be able to get some work done before his residents or patients arrived. He flipped through files, typing information and notes regarding his patients, suddenly realizing how hot it was in his office. 

Chan stood up, walking over to the vent, realizing that there wasn’t any air coming out of it, and he was sitting in the hot, stuffy room without air conditioning. Sighing, he rolled his sleeves up, taking a mental note to pull them down when anyone else entered the room, and got back to work. 

He always felt naked with his arms out. He hadn’t misbehaved in years, but that didn’t mean he still didn’t have anything to hide. He would always be hiding something, and revealing it to his patients (at least in his opinion) would be a bad idea. 

When there was a knock at the door, Chan quickly rolled down his sleeves and answered it, seeing Felix standing in front of him. Instead of staring at the floor, the young man’s eyes were set on his own. He didn’t look confident, but he looked trusting. Chan had never imagined what the expression might have looked like on Felix, but he liked it. He wondered if Felix trusted anybody else in his life. 

Felix looked younger than he was. His facial features were so soft. He had wide, innocent eyes and a button nose. Freckles peppered his cheeks. He was small with tiny hands and round cheeks. He looked like a teenager, and he looked so Australian that it almost made Chan laugh. He remembered that look—the tan skin, the freckles, the way people sat and spoke and reacted to things. Felix wasn’t Korean, at least not yet, and it reminded Chan of his past self. 

“How are you today, mate?” Chan asked in friendly English, trying his best not to show his patient how utterly exhausted he was. 

“Better than last time.” Felix responded. He sounded more comfortable. 

“That’s good to hear. Have you done anything differently since the last time we met?” 

Felix paused in thought before saying, “I guess I just started accepting things more. Like, that I’m in the hospital and stuff.” 

“That’s pretty common. Most people in the psych ward are in denial for a while, until they realize that getting help is a good thing, and they’re not alone. There are plenty of other patients who have been through similar experiences and have similar thoughts. Have you met anyone new?” 

Felix shook his head and said, “My Korean’s too bad.” 

“It’ll get better.” Chan said in Korean. “You just need to practice. The main thing that helped me to learn Korean was to stop holding back. Experiment. Can you understand what I’m saying right now?” 

Felix nodded. 

“You see? You have a basic understanding of the language, and that’s a whole lot better than nothing.” 

“Chris…” It was the first time Chan had heard Felix say his name. He had remembered to call him by his English name. “Is it bad that I like it better here?” 

Felix looked troubled, and his hands were tense. The bandages had been taken off his wrists, revealing a red, stitched laceration on each arm. Chan had seen it many times before, but it seemed to hurt that time. He buttoned the cuffs of his shirt at the sight, hiding his discomfort. Felix seemed to notice, and part of the tension in his small body vanished, to Chan’s dismay. 

_ Calm down…  _ Chan told himself.  _ You’re a doctor, for crying out loud. _

“Well, I can’t see why you wouldn’t.” Chan said, smiling. “You get to sit in a bed, get waited on, looked over, asked how you’re doing. For a lot of patients, it’s the first time anyone’s ever noticed their troubles. But that doesn’t mean you’re going to be unhappy the second you walk out of this building. At the hospital, people like me and the other doctors and nurses here do our best to prepare you for the outside world again. We’re not just going to make sure you aren’t hurting yourself and set you back out into the wild. That’s why you’re talking to me. That’s why we’re going to work on healthy coping mechanisms, changes you can make to your lifestyle, and how you can change your mindset.” 

“Everyday… I always wanted to cut when I wasn’t in the hospital. But here, it doesn’t feel like I have to. Out there, nobody would have noticed if I died. The only reason anyone found me was because…” Felix paused for a few seconds before shaking his head. “Never mind.” 

“Was it because you  _ wanted _ someone to find you?” Chan asked, gently. 

Felix looked up at the psychologist, something inside of him cracking. At first glance, it looked sad, but Chan knew better. Felix looked freer than Chan had ever seen him. It was another wall that was cracking, and it was beautiful. It was one of the main reasons Chan decided to study psychology. 

“It’s embarrassing. It’s selfish.” Felix whispered, his eyes glued to his fidgeting legs. 

“No, it’s not. It’s not selfish to want something you’ve been deprived of. It just means you’re a normal person who needs friendship and love and compassion. It’s completely fine.” 

Felix looked up again, his hands shaking slightly. His eyes filled with tears. 

“Nobody cares…” he choked out, sounding even younger than he had before. He sounded like a child, and Chan suddenly wanted to protect him. He knew that pain, and he would give anything to take it away from the younger Australian. “I have no one. I never had anyone. I just… I just wanted someone to notice… I just wanted to stop being invisible…” 

Felix started crying heavily. He lowered his head and let out choked sobs, trying his best and failing to muffle them. He couldn’t hold back. It was probably the first time he’d cried in years. It all came out at once. Chan was glad he was there when it happened. He was glad he had the opportunity to try and help him. 

“Felix, it doesn’t have to stay that way.” the older spoke softly and compassionately, almost like a parent would. That was what the boy seemed to need at the moment. He seemed so innocent, despite what he’d been through. “You have a low self-esteem. When we think lowly of ourselves, for whatever reason, we tend to think that people don’t care when they really do. When we have depression, we think that people don’t care. We think that we don’t matter. But we do. I promise you we do.” 

“At work, my boss saw the cuts on my arms and he just told me to pull my sleeves down so the customers wouldn’t see… He looked at me like I was disgusting…” 

“Can I see your arms, Felix?” 

Felix looked up at Chan with red, puffy eyes, before slowly lifting his arms out of his lap and holding them out over the desk. Chan slowly took one of them in his hands, turning it over so that he could observe the scars. Some of them were red, and others were white. Some of them were deep, and others were shallow, almost like scratches. They were messy, just as Felix’s emotions had been—just as his thought process had been. 

“They’re not disgusting.” Chan said, looking at Felix with wide, sincere eyes. “They’re just scars. And when you start to feel better, you’ll realize that they’ve gotten lighter and lighter. Someday, you’ll be able to look at them and think about how far you’ve come.” 

Felix only cried harder. 

Chan stood up and stepped over to the other side of the desk so that he was sitting beside Felix, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. To the psychologist’s surprise, Felix leaned into him and wrapped his shaking arms around him. Slowly, Chan hugged him back. He hadn’t been expecting him to warm up so quickly. Felix buried his face in Chan’s shoulder, tears falling and soaking into the fabric of Chan’s shirt. 

“It’ll be okay, Felix.” Chan whispered. “It’ll be okay. I promise.” 

As simple as the words were, they meant so much. At Felix’s age, Chan would have given anything to hear those words. Even if things weren’t okay, and even if the road ahead would be rough and hard, hearing those words helped so, so much. 

Felix started to calm down and pulled away, scrubbing his tears away with his arms. 

“You know, if you start to feel lonely after you get out of the hospital, and if you start having bad thoughts. You can call me at any time. I’ll always get back to you. It may be my job to talk to people, but I’m also a person, just like you, and I chose this job for a reason. I  _ wanted _ this job, and I  _ love _ this job.” 

Felix’s lower lip trembled. And he nodded. 

“W-when I was a kid…” Felix began. He hiccuped. “When I w-was a kid, my mom d-didn’t want me. And I was in f-foster h-homes all my life.” 

Chan rubbed circles on Felix’s back and asked, “Do you think that your past defines you? Is that why you feel like nobody cares?” 

Felix nodded. 

“It doesn’t.” He handed Felix a tissue. “When bad things happen to us, it can make us feel like we’ll never be happy again, and that it’s not possible for good things to happen, but that’s not true. Closing yourself off won’t help you. You might feel like it’ll protect you from getting hurt, and it  _ might _ in a sense, but getting hurt is part of life. It’s healthy. Hurt comes and goes, and it brings new experiences and new knowledge and new confidence that we would never have gained if it hadn’t happened. And you know what? If you close yourself off, you’ll only hurt more than you would if you opened up. You’ll miss out on so much. And I promise you, Felix, that there is so much for you.  _ So much _ . You just have to find out what it is.” 

* * * * *

When Yujun stepped into Hyunjin’s hospital room, he was greeted by another person—one he hadn’t been as expectant to see. Hyunjin, obviously, was in the bed, leaning heavily against his pillow, looking pale and weak. Jeongin was sitting by the window with his homework set before him, looking as timid as he had the last time. And, beside Hyunjin’s bed, sat Seo Changbin—Chan’s intern. 

“Changbin? Aren’t you supposed to be collecting data for Channie?” Yujun said, jokingly, smiling at the psychologist-in-training. Changbin, clearly startled, stood up, bowing deeply for the oncologist. 

“Hi, Dr. Kim. It’s my lunch break, and Dr. Bang was okay with me coming here.” Changbin said, his voice uneasy. 

“I was joking, Changbin. When Channie was an intern he spent all his time studying, even when he didn’t need to. I begged him to take a break sometimes, that’s how addicted he was. I’m glad you’re not that type.” He turned to look at Hyunjin, seeing pale skin and dark circles under his eyes. His hands were limp and he stared into space, a weak smile on his face. His lips were dry. “Hyunjin, how are you feeling?” 

Hyunjin turned his head to look at the doctor, glancing at Changbin and Jeongin before making eye contact. His eyelids drooped as he forced a smile. He looked thoroughly drained, and Yujun couldn’t blame him. 

“I’m feeling alright.” he responded in a weak voice. 

Yujun knew the model was lying, so he said, “Changbin, Jeongin. Out. I need to talk to Hyunjin alone for a few minutes.” 

Changbin looked hesitant, but he stood up, patting Jeongin’s shoulder so that he would do the same. After they both stepped out of the room, Yujun sat beside Hyunjin’s bed with his clipboard in his hand. 

“So… How do you feel?” he repeated, making eye contact with the patient. 

“Really weak.” Hyunjin said, looking at his hands. He seemed almost ashamed. “It’s hard to move, and I’m really tired.” 

“Unfortunately, those are normal responses to the chemo. That’s why it’s especially important for you to rest as much as possible until your next round. Get a lot of sleep, don’t move a whole lot or do anything physically taxing. Your body needs to recover.” 

“I don’t want Jeongin to know about how sick I’m gonna get.” Hyujin spoke quietly. “He’s already stressed out with school. He struggles a lot with his classes and it’s been hard for him to keep his grades up recently, especially with me being in the hospital.” 

“You just need to go with the flow. Jeongin doesn’t have to know the explicit details, but don’t try to act like you feel well when you don’t. Be honest with us so that we can help you.” 

“If I get too sick, he might have to go back to live with our parents. He was so unhappy there, and I can’t let him be stuck there again.” 

“You’re stressing out too much. The best thing you can do for your health is to relax. Okay? Why don’t you get some sleep. You look exhausted.” 

As Yujun left, he noticed how Jeongin had started to cry again and Changbin had his arm around him, rubbing the boy’s shoulder with his hand. 

Yujun wondered why Hyunjin didn’t want Jeongin to live with their parents. He wondered if their parents were anything like his own. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from "Medicine" by Daughter.


	4. i'm hoping you'll understand and not let go of my hand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for mention of drug use/addiction, plus everything else that's in the tags. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy! :-))

When Felix stepped into Chan’s office for their next session, he looked pensive. His eyebrows were knit and his eyes were intense. His hands were stuffed in his pockets and he fidgeted like a spring. He blinked frequently and bit his lip. And he took a deep breath and looked up at Chan, making eye contact with the older man, and said: 

“I want to tell you the whole story.” 

So Chan smiled softly at him, nodding. He had predicted it. While Felix seemed to try so hard to protect himself, every part of him cared about what other people thought, and every part of him didn’t want to be alone. Chan felt proud to have been able to cross the threshold and gain Felix’s trust. It hadn’t been the most difficult task, and it made Chan wonder how little people paid attention to Felix all his life that would cause him to guard his bubbly, clingy, childlike personality. Chan perceived Felix as the kind of kid who would have flourished if it weren’t for the circumstances of his upbringing, and it was disappointing. It made him angry that the world pushed people down, regardless of their needs and potential. 

It was a very personal topic that Chan understood completely, to his misfortune. 

“When I was a little kid, I lived with my mom,” began Felix in a quiet, shaky voice. Chan could tell he was already holding back tears. Felix was sensitive. He was emotional. But he was also tough and guarded because life hadn’t allowed him to be sensitive and emotional. “She was a drug addict. 

“I didn’t know it was a problem because I was only a kid. I would just see her smoke and inject herself with shit, thinking it was normal. Until one day when I was seven or eight, I decided to try smoking one of her joints, and I got really high. My mom found me lying in the yard, staring into space, and she got really mad. She told me not to touch her stuff, and she decided that she didn’t want me around anymore, so she gave me up. 

“My first foster home was alright. It was better than living with my mom, and that was all I knew. They fed me and gave me a place to sleep, and I didn’t hear shouting and… sex noises… at night. I stayed there for around two years, and I thought they liked me. But I realized they were just doing what they were supposed to do, because they gave me up. Looking back on it, they probably thought I was too much of a handful. I stepped in their house knowing all about sex and drugs and stuff, and they weren’t able to change me, so they gave up on me. 

“I switched from foster home to foster home after that. I would spend a week or so there and they would either think I was a bad influence on the other kids or they would be intimidated by me, and they would send me back. I wasn’t violent, and I didn’t argue with the other kids. I did what I was told. I just never really said anything. 

“My sixth foster home was the worst. I stayed there for years, from the time I was twelve, to when I graduated. It was only one guy, I think he was just trying to make money off of me. He would…” Felix took a shaky breath in, his eyes filling with tears and his lip quivering slightly. “Everything was going wrong in his life. He and his wife had just divorced and he lost custody of all his kids. He lost his job. He was an alcoholic. He took it all out on me. Sometimes he would just ignore me, but when he was mad, he would get a belt and…” Felix let out a choked sob, shoulders shaking. “He would hit me with it over and over again until I was bleeding, and… He would lock me in the closet for days and days without any food. 

“I knew that I probably should have told someone, but I just didn’t want to switch foster homes again, because I just wanted to stay in the same place for longer than a few months. I wanted to have some sort of routine, even if it hurt. So I didn’t have any friends so that nobody would see the bruises. And whenever I would get triggered and have panic attacks, nobody would see it and put the pieces together. It was just so lonely, and it hurt… And everything around me reminded me of it. Everything in Australia. Even just looking at the beach made me want to throw up because it reminded me of being forgotten and hated. It got to the point where I just couldn’t stay anymore. I would wake up and look out the window and just start throwing up. I would step outside and my chest would hurt and I wouldn’t be able to breathe. It was like the whole world was just choking me and it wouldn’t stop… So I came to Korea. That’s why I came to Korea.” 

Felix doubled over in what looked like physical pain. He choked on air and coughed. Chan rushed over to him, doing whatever he could to calm him down. Offering him a water bottle, rubbing his back, helping him to breathe. None of it was any use, because Chan could see the look in Felix’s eyes—he was reliving it all. He was looking around and seeing Australia, and he was feeling all of the pain he had tried to run away from. He threw up in the trash can beside Chan’s desk and gasped for breath. 

“Let it out, Felix…” Chan said. “This is good for you. It’s good for you to let out your emotions. Just remember to breathe, okay?” 

Felix grasped Chan’s arm with his cold, clammy hand and coughed some more. He was trembling all over, so violently that Chan could hear his teeth chattering. It took a long time for him to calm down. When the nurse arrived to escort Felix back to his room, Chan waved her off, saying he would spend the first part of his break with Felix. He just sat there with him, muttering reassurances, telling him that his feelings are valid and understandable and that he mattered. 

Eventually, Felix gained some composure, though he was clearly emotionally exhausted and wrapped his arms around Chan, squeezing him tightly and saying, “Thank you, Chris. Thank you so much.” 

“Here’s how you can thank me. Just keep telling yourself that, even if things are hard for you as a result of your past, you aren’t your past. You aren’t worthless. You deserve to be happy, and you have every opportunity to do what it takes to be happy. You aren’t your scars. You aren’t the tool your abuser viewed you as. You’re Felix, and you’ll continue to be Felix for the rest of your life. You’re so special, so important, so precious, and every other synonym. You deserve to get the help that you need in order to be happy with who you are. It’ll take a long time, and it’ll take effort, but I promise you that you’ll be able to reach that point. I’m gonna help you for as long as long as I can, and I’m going to believe in you the whole way. Okay?” 

Felix nodded, wiping away a few remaining tears. His eyes were red and swollen and his skin was cold and sweaty, but he looked better than ever before. 

It’s always better to cry than it is to hurt yourself. 

Chan knew that one from experience. 

“Here’s your homework,” Chan said, pulling out a pen and paper and starting to write. “Every time you think that you might want to cut—even if it’s just a tiny thought, or a reflex, or if you’re feeling sad or overwhelmed, your job is to step back and take a breath—identify what you’re feeling and why. And I want you to either tell someone about it or write it down. Be completely honest with yourself. The worst thing you can do is hide your emotions from yourself. You can’t hurt yourself for being sad. You can’t hurt yourself for crying, or for getting angry or feeling depressed. But you can hurt yourself for not knowing how to deal with those emotions—for holding them inside until they grow and grow and become so big that the only way you can think of to release the stress is to cause a different pain. Distraction won’t heal you. It won’t help you at all. Not even a little bit, not even for one second. I promise. It’s okay to feel sad or depressed or hopeless or angry. It’s okay to feel any sort of emotion. It isn’t shameful, and it doesn’t make you weak. If anything it’ll make you stronger. It’ll give you the comfort and motivation to focus on better things. Things you’ll enjoy and work at and feel satisfied with.” 

As Chan was handing Felix the paper, Felix asked him a question. 

“Like what? What did you find when you got better?” 

Chan felt his heart fall from his chest to his stomach with an intense crash, causing hot blood to spill throughout his torso and leave him weak and overwhelmed. It made him think about things and feel guilty. It made him look at himself. It made his wrists itch and his jaws to clench themselves tightly together liked a locked box. Where was the key? There wasn’t one, because Chan hadn’t built it yet. He was a doctor, but he hadn’t yet built his own key—his own cure. So he faked it. 

“I studied psychology, and I got this job. I get to talk to people like you. That makes me happy.” 

Felix believed him. He believed every word Chan said. He hung off of every word, clinging tightly to them with both fists. With his hope. It made Chan feel proud and guilty. It made him feel like a fraud. 

_ “You don’t have to live a perfect life to give advice. You just have to know how to talk to people, and you have to have the care and belief to do everything you can to help them.”  _ Yujun had told him. 

_ “But I’m a hypocrite.”  _

_ “You’re not a hypocrite, Channie. You’re a person. And you’ve come a long way from where you were before. I would trust you to be my therapist. I would trust you with my life.”  _

Chan was brought out of his embarrassing spiral of unprofessionalism by the feeling of a soft thumb on his cheekbone, just below his eye. He looked up to see Felix there, pulling his thumb away, which was now wet. Chan stood up abruptly, turning around and squeezing his tear-filled eyes shut, and he sat back down in his chair on the other side of the desk. 

“What’s wrong?” Felix whispered. 

Chan didn’t know how to answer, so he said, “Sometimes this job makes me the happiest I’ve ever been, and sometimes… I feel like my patients deserve more than I can give. And I just want to give them everything.” 

He didn’t know why he had been so honest. He was a doctor! Why was he saying this shit? Chan mentally punched himself, trying to break his bones with his mind. Trying to pinch himself into nothingness. Not a doctor. Not a person. Not a fuck-up. 

“I’ll do the homework. I promise I will.” 

There were moments that sped by and moments that went on for hours. There were moments of confusion and frustration. Moments that made the psychologist feel like a failure and an insult to his field. A disappointment to his patients. A disappointment to himself. There were moments where the sun rose high up in the sky, illuminating his office and making everything seem worthwhile. And there were moments when he couldn’t process much more than he had been able to six years before. Ten years before. Fifteen years before. Before there was a solution. Before solutions existed. Yet now, Chan was twenty-eight years old for fuck’s sake, and he was wearing a tie, and his hair was a little less out of control as it had once been, and he was looking forward at his patient, having no idea what to do. 

But Felix only smiled. 

And Chan realized that Felix’s smile was even more genuine than his tears had been. It was as if he had been born to smile—born to be bright and clingy and loving. It was as if the pain that had crumbled his mental state and rendered him wounded and broken had never been part of him, and never would be. It was as if he had been born with life that had never weakened and never left. 

Chan looked forward at Felix, the boy’s rusted sunshine contrasting the psychologist’s permanently overcast skies. Could Felix see it? Could he see the clouds? 

Chan hoped he couldn’t. 

* * * * *

“Um… D-Dr. Kim?” 

Yujun turned his head toward the source of the small noise, noticing a teenage boy wearing his school uniform, hands folded in front of him and eyes glued to the floor. His knees shook and his chest rose and fell quickly. He was holding back tears. 

“Yes, Jeongin?” Yujun said, turning his body so that he was giving the boy his full attention. 

At the soft sound of Yujun’s voice, Jeongin broke down. He crouched down on the floor, crying into his knees. His small shoulders shook. Yujun crouched in front of him so that they were at the same level. 

“What’s wrong?” The doctor said it in almost a whisper. 

Jeongin lifted his head so that his red, tear-filled eyes met Yujun’s, and he whimpered out, “Is Hyunjin-hyung going to die?” 

“Oh, Jeongin.” Yujun said, patting the boy on the shoulder. “Hyunjin is young and strong. I can promise you that he’s got a good shot at recovering.” 

“You can’t promise he’ll survive, though…” 

“I’m not allowed to make those kinds of promises. Not because I don’t believe Hyunjin is going to survive, but because sometimes things take turns. But I’ve got a lot of hope for Hyunjin.” 

Jeongin sniffled before saying, “If hyung dies, I’ll never forgive myself… He did everything for me. When my parents would yell at me for my grades, he would stand up for me, and… When I ran away, he took me in. And he’s taking care of me and paying for me and loving me even though I don’t deserve it… If he dies, I’ll feel guilty for the rest of my life…” 

“Are you having trouble with school, Jeongin?” 

The boy nodded and said, “I can’t keep up. I can’t understand anything. My grades are really bad and I can’t tell Hyunjin because I don’t want him to get worried…” 

“You know what? My little brother is a genius. He’s in college, and he’s tutored before. I’m pretty sure I could get him to come here to the hospital to help you out with your homework.” 

Jeongin’s eyes went wide and he said, “Really?” 

Yujun nodded. “I’ll have to ask him about it tonight, but I doubt he’d just say ‘no’.” 

“Thank you so much, Dr. Kim!” 

The teenager smiled, and it was the brightest thing Yujun had ever seen. His smile was so wide, and he had braces on his teeth that made it even more adorable. Yujun couldn’t help but smile along with him. 

Yujun left work that day feeling slightly more hopeful, and he returned to an apartment full of food, alcohol, and people. He counted them, seeing Minho, Minho’s little cousin (who Yujun still didn’t know the name of), Changbin (surprisingly), Seungmin, Seungmin’s roommate Soobin, and a couple college friends of Yujun’s. 

“Hey,” he said, noticing the absence of the third roommate. “Is Chan not back from work yet?” 

Minho opened his mouth to respond, when the nurse’s small, squirrel-looking cousin blurted out, “Chan as in  _ Dr. Bang _ ?” 

The kid’s eyes went wide and his face paled. Changbin started laughing. 

“Yeah, he’s our roommate.” Yujun said. “I’m Yujun.” 

“Jisung-ah, shut your mouth and stop being shocked that your supervisor has a life outside of work.” Minho snapped, jokingly, punching his cousin’s arm. He turned toward the oldest of the three roommates and said, “He’s back, hyung, he just passed out. I decided I’d just wait for him to wake up since he never fucking sleeps as it is.” 

“Wait…” the cousin, Jisung, said. “You’re telling me I’m in my  _ boss’s _ house and I didn’t even know it?” 

“I’m surprised Changbin didn’t tell you.” Yujun said. “I ran into him the other day.” 

Jisung turned toward Changbin, fire in his eyes, and started chasing him around the living room, Minho groaning before rushing over to try and stop the commotion. Yujun stepped toward Seungmin after taking his coat off and getting settled. 

“Minnie, I’ve got something to ask you.” he said. 

Seungmin looked up at him and nodded. 

“One of my patients has a little brother who’s in high school. His name is Jeongin, and he’s really struggling with school, especially because his brother is sick. I was wondering if you would be willing to think about tutoring him? It would really help.” 

While many people believe that those on the spectrum struggle with empathy, Seungmin did not. He had trouble following social cues and fully understanding facial expressions, but he had a large amount of empathy, to the point where he internalized others’ emotions. Whenever Yujun was struggling, he made sure not to cry around Seungmin, knowing his younger brother would grow extremely stressed. When their parents would fight with Yujun and the older brother would sit in his room, weak and depleted, Seungmin would have panic attacks. He had meltdowns when there was conflict. When Yujun had gotten his job at Yellow Wood, Seungmin had been so elated that anyone would have thought he, himself, had gotten the job. 

Yujun remembered taking Seungmin to the playground when he was a small child. There had been a day when he had been playing tag with another little boy. He had chased him all over the playground for a long time, and when the boy said that he was done playing, Seungmin had only laughed and continued to chase him until the boy was crying on the ground, begging him to stop. Yujun had stepped in, apologizing to the kid’s mother and explaining the situation to Seungmin. When his younger brother had grasped the reality of what had happened, he cried and felt sorry for the rest of the day. 

“Does he know about my autism?” Seungmin asked immediately. It was an essential piece of information for him, unfortunately, for his safety and emotional well-being. 

“He doesn’t know, but I’ll tell him about it. If he doesn’t mind, would you be willing to think about it?” 

Seungmin paused before nodding. 

Chan stepped out of his room looking less than party-ready. His curly hair was sticking up in all directions and he had bags hanging underneath his eyes. He looked half-asleep. When he caught a glimpse of his two interns, his jaw dropped and his eyes went wide. 

“Minho,” Chan croaked, causing all the guests to look up. “Why did you invite Changbin and Jisung?” 

“Jisung’s my cousin.” Minho said. 

Chan just nodded and said, “Of course he is.” 

Yujun kept an eye on Chan for the rest of the evening. He watched as his friend sat in place for a while, staring blankly into space. He watched as he scratched his arms through his shirt sleeves. 

“Are you okay?” Yujun whispered so that nobody else could hear. “You knew we’d be having some people over tonight.” 

Chan nodded and said, “Yeah, I just forgot I guess. I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize. It’s okay. We all have bad days.” 

At one point, Chan dropped a glass, causing it to shatter. When everyone turned their attention toward the crash, they noticed that the psychologist was just standing in place, looking down at the mess of shattered glass as if it were a hundred miles away—as if he were looking at it through a television screen. He didn’t notice that the entire apartment went silent, and he didn’t notice when Yujun got up from his seat on the couch and walked toward him. 

“Channie, is everything okay?” he asked gently. 

When the oncologist reached his hand toward his friend, laying it on his shoulder, Chan jumped in surprise, flinching away and nearly falling into the mess of shattered glass. His hands were shaking. He squeezed his eyes shut. 

“Sorry,” he said. “I should probably clean this up.” 

“I’ll take care of it. Why don’t you go rest?” 

Chan just nodded as Yujun and Minho worked together to brush away any traces of glass that littered the floor. When Yujun looked back at the guests, he noticed the uneasiness in the eyes of Changbin and Jisung. Of course they didn’t know what was going on with their supervisor, and they would probably never know. 

Yujun only joined the rest of the group, painting a smile on his face and trying to shift the mood of the night toward something more positive. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from "In For The Kill" by La Roux.


	5. i go through all this before you wake up so i can feel happier

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! I've been pretty busy lately, but I'll try to update more regularly!

_ “You lied to me!”  _

_ Chan was floating in the top corner of the small, stuffy, dust-filled bedroom, each shoulder touching a wall and his head grazing the ceiling. He was wearing a t-shirt and shorts—an outfit completely necessary for the scorching weather of Sydney, Australia during the summertime. He was looking down at a boy, whose orange hair had turned black, a few lighter strands mixing in with the rest, bleached from the sun. The boy had sun-kissed skin and freckles.  _

_ “I’m s-sorry!” the boy shouted in a squeaky, pre-pubescent voice, shaky from fear. Tears welled up in his eyes. He looked so desperate, so horrified that he seemed almost paralyzed. Petrified in that stance, hands lingering stiffly between his sides and chest, as if trying to fight his protective instincts. He was telling himself that lifting his hands up and shielding his head would only bring on a worse beating. He bit his lip.  _

_ “Sorry isn’t enough! You’re lucky I took you in! If it weren’t for me, you’d be like you were before, a useless piece of trash skipping around from home to home because nobody can stand you!”  _

_ The boy was Felix, and he started to cry, widening his shiny, wet eyes as the first hit came. A slap across the face—hard enough to hurt, but not hard enough to leave a bruise. The second blow was to his stomach, causing him to hunch forward, falling to his knees, gasping for breath. Felix looked up at the man—his foster father—and squeaked as he picked up a belt from the bed.  _

_ “I only lied because I d-didn’t want to hurt your feelings!” Felix sobbed.  _

_ “Lies! All of it! You’re making this harder on yourself. All you’re doing is hurting yourself and you know it. Maybe you like being punished. Do you like it?”  _

_ Felix squeezed his eyes shut choking out, “Please s-stop…”  _

_ “Take your shirt off.”  _

_ “Please don’t…”  _

_ “Shirt. Off.”  _

_ “Please…”  _

_ Felix started to sob louder, barely short of screaming, as the man grabbed him in his meaty hands and pulled his shirt off, discarding it on the floor beside them. Felix’s chest and stomach were littered with bruises, and when he was forced to turn around, Chan was greeted by a plethora of thick scars, some fresher than others. And the man lifted the belt and down it went, snapping loudly against the boy’s back, leaving a red, raw mark that started to bleed after a few seconds. The belt struck him several more times, until Felix seemed to have given up, lying limply on the ground, staring into space.  _

_ He seemed as if he had died. There wasn’t an ounce of life in his clouded-over eyes.  _

_ The man turned around to utter one last thing to the broken boy.  _

_ “That’s what you deserve…” He looked up to the floating man in the corner. “ _ **_Chris._ ** _ ”  _

Chan awoke with a start, sitting up, breathing heavily as his heart raced within his ribcage. After managing to catch some of his breath, he checked the time on his phone, noticing that it was two o’clock—only an hour since he had fallen asleep. He sighed, knowing that the chances of him slipping back into peaceful slumber were close to nothing. All he could see in the darkness of his bedroom was the image of the bruises and the scars his unconscious mind had constructed. 

Why was it so clear? 

He closed his eyes, his mind only racing, causing him to fidget and overthink every aspect of his existence. Defeated, he stood up, walking into the bathroom and turning the light on, to the dismay of his dilated pupils. He opened the medicine cabinet which sat on the other side of the mirror, and pulled out a bottle with a blue label, dropping a couple pills into his hand and swallowing them dry. 

It wasn’t a hassle for Chan to swallow his sleeping pills anymore. 

He had grown far too accustomed to it. 

Even medicated, it took a while to fall asleep. Even when debilitating drowsiness overcame his body and rendered him limp and lifeless against his mattress, his brain still fought for consciousness. His muscles still craved to twitch and fidget. But they eventually lost their battle as Chan felt himself slowly drifting away into forged dreamland. 

By the time Chan was sitting at his desk watching Felix step through the room and take a seat in the chair across from him, Chan was feeling better. Physically, at least. His eyes were open and his brain was allert, even if he was suffering from lack of sleep (it had been several months since he had managed to get more than six hours of sleep in a night). 

Felix looked considerably good, for the circumstances. The bandages had been taken off of his wrists, revealing two pink scars that seemed to be healing nicely. The darkness that had once surrounded his eyes was now almost completey gone, allowing Chan to realize how round and full of life they were. His skin had regained some color and he was holding himself more confidently. He was getting better. 

It made Chan pleased, but it also left him afraid. 

Afraid that it wouldn’t last. 

Afraid that Felix would step out into the real world again, only to feel unequipped, falling back into the same spiral that had almost taken his life previously. 

Maybe not survive this time. 

“I want to make friends.” Felix said. “I always wanted to make friends. You probably don’t think I’m very social, since I’m here, but I like talking to people. I like being around them, even if we aren’t doing anything.” 

“I think you’re social.” Chan said, smiling, warmly. “You’ve really come out of your shell in the past couple weeks and I’m proud of you.” 

“When I first moved here…” Felix paused, seeming uncomfortable. He bit his lip before continuing. “I didn’t know the language at all. I think my parents were Korean. My mom didn’t teach me the language or anything, and I only lived with her for so long. Everyone around me spoke English. I knew nothing. I just… Went on the computer at the library and looked up a few simple phrases and tried to memorize them. When I got here, everyone was speaking so fast and I couldn’t understand a word of it. Luckily, I met a guy who’s my age, named Soobin, who gave me some books and helped me find my way around. He speaks basic English. He even helped me get a job. He’s my coworker now.” 

“Soobin? As in Choi Soobin?” Chan asked, raising his eyebrows in surprise. 

“Yeah. He’s really tall.” 

“I know him. His roommate is my friend’s little brother. Have you met Seungmin?” 

Felix shook his head and said, “I don’t really know if Soobin wants to me my friend. He’s been nice, but… I don’t think he trusts me to meet his friends and go to his house or anything. He’s got more money than me, and he’s in college, and I’m… Well, I’m a depressed foreigner who can’t seem to get his shit together.” 

“That’s not true at all. Soobin’s a nice guy. I’m sure if you reached out to him and showed him that  _ you _ wanted to be friends, he’d be more than happy to hang out with you.” 

Felix seemed hesitant. He shrugged, lowering his head so that it was hanging forward. 

“Here, I’ll tell you something. Look at me.” Felix looked up at him, slowly. “Putting yourself down like this won’t do anything for you. If you constantly tell yourself that you’re worthless, you’ll start to actually see yourself as worthless. It makes you think that everyone else sees you the same way. But that’s not true. Tell me what you thought when you first saw me. Every single thought you had.” 

Felix looked slightly taken aback, but eventually said, “Well… I thought you had really broad shoulders.” He smiled. “And I thought you looked kinda scary, but also kinda nice. Like a teacher or something. But you don’t seem scary at all anymore.” 

Chan laughed. 

“Yeah, my interns said the same thing. But they still think I’m a little scary.” Felix chuckled. His smile was unbelievably bright. He squeezed his eyes and puffed his cheeks and showed his teeth. It was adorable, and it made Chan want to protect him from all harm in the world. Felix didn’t deserve what life had given him. Nobody deserved that. “Now I’ll tell you my first impression of you.” 

“You knew I was a nutcase who got put in the psych ward.” 

“I knew you were a patient here, and I knew the very little information that had been listed in your file. What I didn’t know was that you had so much potential to grow. When I first saw you, I saw that you seemed a little timid. You looked tired. You looked unsure and apathetic. I never thought you looked pathetic. I never thought you looked like you’d be a bad person, or a bad friend. But, I’ll go ahead and tell you that every single patient who’s set foot in my office felt a little timid and unsure at first. Every single one of them was tense, and every single one of them took a little while to warm up to me. And I expect that. I don’t look down on it. I don’t let it cloud my perception of the person. Because each of my patients is a person who has their own experiences, their own lives, their own thoughts, their own feelings, their own beliefs. And everything about them is completely valid.” 

Felix just looked at Chan for a few seconds, seeming to study him. It made Chan hyperaware of his expression and body language. It made him feel smaller than he was. 

“Were you in a psych ward before?” Felix asked suddenly, causing Chan to almost flinch at the impact of the question. It was so abrupt. Chan couldn’t prepare himself. He didn’t know what to say. Felix’s eyes grew wide and he lifted his hand, apologetically. “I didn’t mean to ask that. I’m sorry. That was rude.” 

After collecting himself, Chan said, “No, it wasn’t rude. I’ve been asking you questions, it would only be fair if you asked me a few things. And…” He took a breath, testing if he would be able to respond or not. He would have to. He would have to stay strong, because that’s what Felix needed. “Yes, I was. It was a long time ago. I was your age. And here I am now.” 

Felix didn’t look shocked. Chan knew he’d predicted it. Maybe Felix had detected the similarity between the two of them at the same time he had. Maybe it didn’t take a psychology degree to be able to tell if a person had been through something that was less than pretty. 

When the patient walked out of the office, the former patient looked down, suddenly feeling a pit in his chest that travelled to his stomach. Forced his hands to shake and his heart to pound. He felt it rise up his neck and into his head. Behind his face. In his throat. In his eyes. And suddenly he was crying. 

He was sitting at his desk, wearing a goddamn tie, and bawling his eyes out because he just didn’t know what he was feeling and he just didn’t like it. It felt both familiar and unfamiliar. He just felt so much all at once. It was like saying goodbye to his dog when he left Australia. It was like waking up in the hospital after— 

“Dr. Bang?” 

The voice was gentle and hesitant. The voice belonged to Jisung. Chan looked up through tear-filled eyes to see the young man, hands clenched, round cheeks hanging on either side of his face as his eyes widened in bewilderment. Jisung may have been an adult, but when he was nervous, he suddenly looked ten years younger, like a frightened squirrel. 

Chan quickly scrubbed his tears away, avoiding eye contact, even though he knew he was already fucked. 

“Hi, Jisung.” he said, punching himself internally at how his voice trembled. 

“Are you okay?” 

Chan nodded, sucking his tears back into his body and standing up, ignoring his shakiness. 

“Yes.” he said. “I’m okay.” 

* * * * *

When Yujun stepped into Hyunjin’s hospital room during the model’s second round of chemo, he saw him asleep in the bed. The drug was being injected into his body through his port, and he looked extremely pale, and his hair seemed slightly thinner. 

Turning his head, Yujun saw something he had not expected. Two boys. Jeongin. And  _ Seungmin _ . They had a text book open and a few papers scattered around them. Seungmin was knowledgably explaining the cell cycle to the younger. It made Yujun smile. 

Seungmin had an almost photographic memory. He seemed to think like a computer, and Yujun was envious. The older brother had struggled more in school, his work ethic and attitude getting him to where he was. 

Seeing that his patient was asleep, Yujun decided to step out as to not disturb him, but as he was turned away, he head a weak voice behind him. 

“Dr. Kim?” Hyunjin said. “Is that you?” 

Yujun spun his heal so that he was making eye contact with Hyunjin, and smiled softly, saying, “Yes. I was justing dropping by to check on you.” 

“Can I talk to you alone?” 

The two boys in the corner seemed to notice, standing up and walking out of the room, dragging their piles of textbooks and papers along with them. 

“You didn’t have to tell your brother to tutor Innie for free.” Hyunjin said, quietly. 

Yujun raised his eyebrows and said, “I never told him to tutor him for free. I suggested tutoring him and I explained the situation.” 

He paused, then continued. 

“Seungminnie understands how Jeongin must feel. He’s got an older brother, and I practically raised him since my parents found out about his Asperger’s when he was six.” 

Hyunjin smiled with cracked lips. He was still beautiful. 

“You’re a good person, Dr. Kim. And so is Seungmin. I bet he’ll be a good doctor.” 

“I’ll tell him you said that. He’s had his fair share of run-ins with people who think it’s funny to crush his self-confidence and make him think that his autism will ruin his chances of helping a patient.” 

Yujun couldn’t help but feel a deep-set happiness in his chest as he was leaving, catching parts of the boys’ tutoring session. The way Seungmin didn’t give up until Jeongin told him he understood. The way he asked him questions, making sure that he didn’t miss a single facial expression. A single piece of body language. Making sure he was helping to the best of his ability. 

Jeongin seemed to like him. 

They both sounded more cheerful than Yujun thought possible at that moment. 

It was nice. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from "Hyperballad" by Björk


	6. i'm like a rubber band until you pull too hard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the wait!! I moved into college a few weeks ago and things have been so hectic! So much homework, trying to find my place here while still abiding by pandemic precautions. I'm going to try to get chapters out as frequently as I can, though! 
> 
> I hope you enjoy and have a good day!! <333

There was always something that stopped sleep from coming to Chain’s exhausted brain. 

Maybe he worried about work, falling into a spiral of unsureness, wondering if he was doing his job correctly and cursing himself for any possible mistake he could have made. Imagining his patients speak poorly of him, leaving his office only to fall into a worse state than they had been in to begin with. 

Worried about his patients. Thinking about how they must be feeling, and feeling unequipped to help them. Feeling as though everything is out of his hands when all he wants to do is help them to feel better. He really wanted to help them feel better. 

Sometimes he worried about different things. Friendships, current and past. Moments when he felt alone in a room full of people. Moments when not even Yujun could make him feel safe. As if nobody was on his side. As if nobody could understand. As if nothing would ever make him happy again. 

And sometimes he thought back to old times. Times that he regretted. And regardless of how hard the regret hit him and how dreadful it made him feel, he was grateful for it, because regret was what motivated him to try again. Regret was what motivated him to push through. Regret was what motivated him to survive. 

Waking up in the hospital on that dreaded day, the bright lights of the ceiling blinding him. Feeling a warm weight enclosed around his limp hand and looking up to see Yujun’s face. Teary eyes. A mixture of relief, sadness, worry, and something entirely unreadable on his face. 

And then seeing Minho and realizing that he had screwed up. Seeing how Minho was kneeling on the floor of the hospital room, bowing deeply to Chan as though he were royalty, crying. Minho never cried. But he was crying so hard and apologizing over and over again. 

_ “I’m sorry, hyung…” _ he had sobbed.  _ “I didn’t mean to hurt you… I’m so sorry…”  _

It wasn’t Minho’s fault, and Chan knew it. It was his own mind’s fault. It wasn’t Minho. Poor Minho. He was so young then. 

Minho changed. 

He changed so much. 

Sarcasm turned to emotionlessness. 

Drama turned to nonconfrontation. 

It was because he was traumatized. Minho had PTSD. He had to see a therapist for it for two years, and it still came back every once in a while. It unconsciously affected every decision he made. 

Chan wouldn’t do it again. 

It wasn’t worth it. 

Regardless of how difficult things got, and how messy his head became, it wasn’t worth it. 

Not when he was standing in the bathroom at three in the morning, holding a bottle of pills and looking forward at Minho’s wide eyes—stern with fear etched in every corner. It was because he cared, though. Minho cared so much and Chan hated that he hadn’t realized it before. 

“Are you okay, hyung?” Minho asked, looking down at the closed bottle of sleeping pills in Chan’s pale hands. 

“Yeah, I just couldn’t sleep.” Chan responded. 

“If you can’t sleep, that means you’re not okay. What’s going on? Why are you so stressed all of a sudden? How can I help you?” 

“I’m sorry, Minho…” Chan sighed. “Work has just been stressful. I have a patient, who… He’s been through a lot, and I just worry about him. And I feel for him. And I just really want him to get better.” 

“Don’t forget about yourself, hyung.” Minho kept firm eye contact with Chan, as though to show the older how terrified he was that something bad would happen again. 

So Chan hugged him, and Minho hugged back, tighter, because he cared. And Chan felt guilty about worrying his roommate, but he also knew that he was loved. It didn’t have to be a burden on his mental state. It could be a reason to feel safe. A reason to let go and trust things the way they were, because there was no need to pretend the world rested in his hands all the time. Even if he thought it did, it didn’t. 

“Can I see your arms?” Minho asked, more quietly this time. 

Chan just nodded and rolled up his sleeves, revealing the white scars that littered his forearms. The bumps he ran his fingers over every once in a while with mixed feelings. Feeling as though he were flawed, but also knowing that the smooth bumps were a sign that he was better, and that the world was brighter. There were two thick ones on each wrist, but Chan didn’t like to look at those. 

“Please talk to me, hyung, if you feel bad. I say it every day, but please. Or Yujun. Just someone.” 

“I will, Min. Thanks for caring.” 

Chan was still broken, but the tape was working.

And sometimes the tape made him feel more beautiful than an undamaged version of himself would ever be. 

“I feel a lot better.” Felix said at their session the next day. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt like this. I don’t have many people around and things are still kinda shitty, but I actually have somewhat of a plan. And it feels like… I’ll be able to figure things out. It feels like things might get better.” 

“I’m really glad, but don’t get ahead of yourself.” Chan said with compassion and understanding. “It’s really easy to feel like everything’s going to be perfect once you get out, but it won’t be. You’ll get out of here and you’ll feel out of place for a while. You’ll feel scared and lonely. You’ll feel unprepared. It’ll take work. The difference is that now you have a better idea of what you want and what kind of work it’ll take to get there. You know strategies that will help you in the future. And you know that if you ever feel desperate, or in danger, if you just need to talk about something, you can call me.” 

Felix’s expression seemed to fall slightly as he faced the harsh truth. Chan couldn’t sugarcoat it. He couldn’t tell Felix that the world was his oyster because that wouldn’t help him. It would set him up for disappointment. 

“Don’t forget to take your medication.” Chan said. “I know I’ve already explained to you that it’ll help, but I never explained the full science to you. I just want you to know this so that you won’t give up on it, or feel like there’s no solution to your depression. 

“People with depression have a chemical imbalance in their brain. There are a few different factors that can cause depression. There’s a part of your brain called the hippocampus, and its main function is the formation of memories, but it also plays a role in emotion. fMRI’s have shown that, oftentimes, people with depression have smaller hippocampuses than others. When you take a medication that treats this type of imbalance, it will take a few weeks to start feeling the results because during that time your nerves are growing and forming new connections, which will help your hippocampus to grow back into a healthy size. 

“Doctors often prescribe their patients SSRI’s, which I believe you are taking now, which increase the levels of serotonin in your brain. Serotonin is a neurotransmitter which is responsible for feelings of happiness, or pleasure. Healthy brains have far more serotonin spread throughout their lobes than depressed brains do. The SSRI you are taking is going to block reabsorption of serotonin into your brain’s neurons. And if you still don’t believe me, I’ve studied scans of a depressed brain beside a healthy brain, and the healthy brain looks like it’s glowing because of all of the serotonin it has, while the depressed brain looks much darker. 

“Not all medications are going to work for you. That’s why you need to communicate with a doctor about how you feel. If a medication is not the one for you, the doctor can easily just switch it out for something else, which might end up making you feel really great. You just need to be patient and observant. You can’t just let yourself spiral and neglect yourself. It’s not hopeless. You  _ can _ feel better. There’s no cure for depression, but there are a million treatments for it, and when you overlap medication with lifestyle habits and therapy, you have every opportunity to live a normal, entirely functional life. It’s work, and it's unfair that people who don’t have depression don’t have to do what people like you and me do, but it’s worth it. It helps. And you deserve to get treatment and feel better. You deserve every single step it’s going to take. Okay?” 

Felix nodded. 

“I’ve never talked to someone like you before.” Felix said. “You seem to really understand. When I was a kid, I thought psychologists were just in it for the money, but you’re not like that at all. It almost seems like you… You went through almost the same thing as me. I guess you’re just really good at your job.” 

Chan felt the anxiety come back. Why did Felix have to be so empathetic? 

“Chris…” Felix said quietly, lowering his gaze so that he was looking down at Chan’s hands. And then Chan peered down at his hands and realized that Felix wasn’t looking at his hands at all. He was looking at his wrists, which had been exposed when his sleeves rolled up slightly, revealing the two thick, white scars that had long since healed from the deadly cuts they once were. “You… Did you…” 

Suddenly, the door opened, revealing the nurse. 

It was time for Felix to leave. 

* * * * *

Something was missing from Hyunjin when Yujun entered his hospital room on that day. 

His hair was considerably thinner and so was his body. His face was pale and sunken in, and there were circles of purply shadow surrounding his eyes. His lips were dry and colorless, and his eyes looked blank and glazed over, almost as though his soul had been erased from his body. Yujun assumed he allowed himself to look so broken because Jeongin was out in the hallway, working on homework with Seungmin. He had been given the opportunity to temporarily let go and show his weakness. 

He had cancer, of course he was allowed to be weak. 

But in his own mind, he wasn’t. 

Yujun stood there for a few seconds before the patient registered his presence. Hyunjin turned his head slightly with what looked like great effort, lifting his cloudy eyes so that they met the doctor’s. Every pale, fragile ounce of him looking at Yujun. 

Because Yujun was the only person in the whole universe he could be honest with. 

He didn’t have to lie for money or reputation or for the sake of those he cared about. 

Yujun saw the worst of his patients because he was a doctor. And he appreciated every moment of it because cancer is tough and sad. Sometimes the only thing that can help is catharsis. 

“How are you feeling, Hyunjin?” Yujun said. 

The dams broke. 

The dams broke, and Hyunjin started crying. 

“It d-doesn’t matter how I feel…” he whispered. “I’m a model… It d-doesn’t m-matter how I feel. It only matters what people see, and how I present myself. It only matters how I look… And now I look like shit.” 

“Hyunjin, you—” 

“I know what you’re going to say.” Hyunjin seemed angry at this point, raising his voice. His fists were clenched. “You’re going to tell me that I have good chances of getting better and I need to put my fucking health first and all the shit you keep repeating to me like a broken record. Like I’m eight years old. I get it, alright? I’m young and I eat fucking vegetables.” 

Hyunjin choked on a sob, leaning his head back on the pillow in exhaustion. He wasn’t done. He was just gathering what little energy he had left. 

“I’m a fucking model, Dr. Kim!” he said in exasperation—not with Yujun, not for himself, but for luck and life and everything that he couldn’t control. Everything that immediately slipped out of his fingertips the moment he passed out in that convenience store. When his eyes had shut on that dreaded night, so had life as he knew it. So had many of his abilities. So had much of his independence. “I stand in front of a camera and get photographed because people think I’m pretty! People see me in magazines and think I look aesthetic and beautiful and desirable! They see me wearing a certain brand and invest their money in that brand just because I look so fucking good in it! My job is gone! Look at me! My whole fucking job is gone! Nobody’s ever going to look at me the same… I’m ugly… I look like… I don’t look like me anymore. I don’t look like  _ me _ .” 

Yujun said nothing. 

“I’m so ugly…” Hyunjin sobbed, miserably. “It was all I was good for… I’ve never been good at anything, but at least I had my looks. I fucked up everything, but at least I got a contract with a company because of my looks. It’s shallow, I know it is, but that’s all I have. My fucking looks. That’s the only thing sustainable about me. But now I’m ugly… Now I’m ugly and I have nothing left…” 

Yujun just stepped closer to Hyunjin and hugged him, leaning over the hospital bed. And even if the hug wasn’t reciprocated, Hyunjin leaned into him and cried into his shoulder and seemed to relax as the seconds passed. By the time Yujun pulled away, Hyunjin looked more tired than angry. More sad than distraught. Just deep, aching sadness etched onto his every feature, from the deep animation in his eyes to the superficial wrinkles of his hospital gown. 

“I’m sorry.” Yujun said, quietly, pulling a chair beside the hospital bed and sitting down. “I’m so sorry you have to go through this, Hyunjin.” 

Hyunjin reached his thin hand out for Yujun to take it, and the doctor did. The model’s hand was cold against his own, but it seemed to warm up slightly at the physical contact. They stayed like that until Hyunjin fell asleep. 

And then Yujun sat in his office for a few minutes with the door closed, crying. 

Because he just couldn’t help it. 

The hardest part of being an oncologist was wanting to cure everyone, but not being able to. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from "Elastic Heart" by Sia.


	7. i finally sat alone pitch black flesh and bone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY FOR THE WAIT! I've been overwhelmed with coursework and spending a most-likely unhealthy amount of time studying. I'll try to get chapters out as quickly as possible! 
> 
> TW for inexplicit flashbacks to a suicide attempt, an autistic freakout, and a brief scene of self-harm (not cutting or anything deliberate).

“Here’s my business number. I may not respond during my office hours, when I’m busy meeting with patients or working with my interns, but I’ll respond whenever I can.” Chan said. “And I don’t sleep all that much, so don’t be afraid to call me at night if you need anything or just want to talk.” 

Felix looked up at the older Australian with an unreadable expression in his eyes. He looked so innocent that Chan wished he could keep him longer, but he knew that wasn’t possible unless he gave up his well-paying job at the hospital and risked failing in opening a private practice. He had known a few clinical psychologists who made that decision due to workplace descrimination based on gender, or a general dissatisfaction with the busy environment, but Chan was fairly happy with the hospital and the way his higher-ups treated him. 

“Here’s a list of ways to relieve stress or ward off destructive thoughts just to keep in mind. Also, remember what we’ve talked about. Take your medicine, reach out to anyone if you’re feeling down or out of control, and don’t be afraid to get help. You’re not recovered, and you won’t get better unless you put in the effort. But you definitely  _ can _ get better, and you definitely  _ can _ trust me with absolutely  _ anything. _ ” 

Felix nodded. 

“Chris, why don’t you sleep that much?” Felix asked. 

God-fucking-damnit. Had Felix suddenly turned into Yujun or Minho? Or was Chan just that obviously not okay?  _ Hurry up, come up with a valid excuse! Fucking lie! _ But maybe lying wasn’t the best option this time. When Felix stepped out of Chan’s office that day, he would no longer be his patient. He would be out in the real world, feeling hurt and alone, working his low-income job and struggling to make friends. He would be pulling his sleeves down over his hands at all times out of the unconscious belief that everyone in his life would immediately reject him at the knowledge that he would do something so gruesome to himself. 

_ Only girls do it, so don’t tell _ , he would repeat to himself, along with,  _ You’re too old to cut. _

He would consider himself invalid, and he would fall back into that spiral, just as Chan had, and just as Chan had barely escaped time after time. 

And Chan was still there. 

And Chan wasn’t okay, but he didn’t want to leave anymore. He wouldn’t let himself leave. 

“I have insomnia.” Chan said. God, why did his voice sound so weak? It wasn’t supposed to come out like that! It was supposed to be his smart, mature, professional doctor-voice. The one that applied every fucking aspect of his life to his patients and made him out to be some sort of recovered Jesus, going around spreading miracles and spreading the Word of Recovery. 

_ “But…” _ he would have said two weeks before.  _ “But…”  _

There weren’t any “but”s, though. No buts. Chan had insomnia, end of story. He took meds for it. It came back when he was stressed. He had his worst thoughts at night, and he dreaded coming home from work because he knew that it would lead to hours upon hours of lying in fidgety, restless, panicked,  _ exhausted _ hell. Those were nights for Chan. There were no “but”s. 

“Are you okay?” Felix asked, and as Chan was beginning to nod, Felix butted in and said, “I really want to know. I’m not made of glass. I don’t have insomnia, so I wouldn’t understand.” 

Chan bit his lip before resisting the urge to look away as he answered, “I’m tired. And I’m stressed. And it makes things worse most of the time. But I’ll survive.” 

“What are you stressed about?” 

What the hell? Had Chan and Felix switched places? Nevertheless, it felt strangely liberating in a belittling way (even though his own past therapist would have told him that being honest shouldn’t make him feel small), talking to someone who actually understood. Felix was so similar to Chan that it was scary. He was so similar to the psychologist that Chan had dreams about him in disguise as himself. 

“Work, and my friends, and my patients. Deadlines and stuff.” 

“What about me?” 

Bruh. 

“You remind me of myself.” Chan said. “I guess in more ways than just the whole Australia thing. And that stresses me out. But it’s not your fault.” 

Felix paused for a second, blinking in thought, before rolling his sleeves up to his elbows, revealing the raw and very fresh scars that littered the soft skin. The two thick ones that were closed, if still red. Traces of stitch marks. Fresh remains. Aftermath. It was all so new. 

Felix lifted his arms so that his elbows were resting on the desk, and he outstretched them so that Chan could see them clearly. And then he looked him dead in the fucking eyes and Chan did before he could think. He lifted his own sleeves with shaky hands and showed Felix what he showed close to nobody—what his boss didn’t know about, or his interns, or even some of his friends. The white scars. Healed. 

Identical to Felix’s in almost every way, shape, and form. 

Just fainter. 

Just older. 

That’s all he was, wasn’t he? He was a patient, just older. But wasn’t everyone a patient to some extent? Having been sick doesn’t make a doctor any less qualified. Having crashed a car doesn’t make a mechanic any less qualified. Why would being sick make Chan any less of a psychologist? Why would having bad thoughts from time to time and not being able to sleep make Chan a failure? He was  _ trying _ , and that’s all anyone can do. And when methods don’t work, other methods come in, then other methods, and we just keep trying and trying until something does work, because that’s what people are supposed to do. That’s what people  _ deserve _ . 

That’s what people deserve from themselves. 

“They’re the same.” Felix said, smiling. 

Yes, they were the same. 

There was no difference. 

Six hours later, Chan was curled up in a pathetic ball on the couch, crying his eyes out. 

“Can you tell us what’s been making you so stressed out lately?” Yujun asked in the gentlest voice ever. It made Chan want to punch him for being so nice. 

Instead he just buried his face in his roommate’s shoulder, tears staining the doctor’s t-shirt. 

“I h-had this p-patient…” Chan said, hiccuping. “H-he’s f-from Australia. And h-he grew up i-in the foster system… And his f-foster dad was a-abusive. And… And he m-moved here to f-find an escape, a-and he c-can’t speak K-Korean very well, and he t-tried k-kill himself. And his scars… They’re the same. They’re the exact s-same…” 

“I see.” Yujun said. Minho looked speechless, as always. He was shaking. Poor Minho was shaking, as always. “Does talking to him bring back memories? Is that why you can’t sleep?” 

Chan just nodded against the older’s shoulder. 

“And it m-makes me just realize that… It’s been s-six years since it happened, and I got a f-fucking d-degree and a j-job… And I’m not better at all.” 

“That’s not true.” Yujun did all the speaking. “That’s the biggest lie I’ve ever heard you say, Christopher Bang. I’ve seen you grow so much, and having bad stretches doesn’t mean you lost any of your progress. Look at you. You’re so much more confident. You used to barely be able to say a word to anyone. You used to go for weeks without sleeping and get rushed to the hospital because you never took care of yourself. You used to be so skinny, and so depressed, and you had only a percentage of the amount of personality you have now. You’re a real, full person now who expresses his beliefs and lets other people know who he is because he’s worth it. I’ve seen you grow so much, Chan, so don’t say you haven’t. I’m really proud of you.” 

“B-but… Every time things g-get shitty, I c-can’t help but wonder… What if I just did it again?” 

“That’s fine. It’s about pushing those thoughts aside and reassuring yourself that feeling bad doesn’t mean your life is bad, and it doesn’t mean you’ll feel bad forever. You know that.” 

Chan sniffled. 

“You know what I think, Channie? I think you need to stop expecting yourself to be recovered just because you’re a doctor. It doesn’t work that way.” 

It really didn’t. 

“I’ll try.” 

* * * * *

And maybe things were getting worse for Yujun, too. 

That was just how things seemed to be working at the moment. 

Hyunjin didn’t seem any worse than before, and neither did Jeongin. Seungmin was sitting across from him at the restaurant, eating his noodles with a smile on his face. But Yujun couldn’t think of the positive. All he thought about was the past and every single mark it left on him and everyone else in his life. 

“How’s the tutoring been going, Minnie?” Yujun asked, trying to shift his train of thought toward something real and living and happy. 

“It’s been great.” Seungmin said with a look of pure, innocent joy on his face. It was beautiful, and it caused Yujun’s soul to feel complete for a split second. 

Of course it was only a split second, because every time Seungmin smiled, Yujun’s mood always turned around on its own. Every time Seungmin smiled, Yujun always thought of the possibility of his smile fading away. It always did at some point, because the world was harsh and cruel, and there was only so much Yujun could do to protect his younger brother. 

Suddenly, Yujun was in the past, seventeen years old and sitting in that same restaurant with his parents and a small, ten-year-old boy who was scratching himself harshly because the material of his sweater irritated his sensitive skin. Their mother had forced him to wear it, despite his complaints, and despite the bloody scratch marks that would inevitably be left on his skin, staining the shirt, causing him to be punished further. 

_ “Stop it!” _ their mother would snap, slapping the child as though he weren’t even a person. As if he were faking his Asperger’s. 

Of course that was what Seungmin had been doing since he was old enough to show any trace of his personality. He was pretending to misunderstand facial expressions and social cues, and he was pretending to throw up at the smell of grass and have panic attacks at the feeling of wool against his skin. All he wanted was attention. 

It was busy and loud, and Seungmin was visibly distressed. He was rocking back and forth, jaws clenched together and knuckles white from how tightly they gripped each other. His breathing was increasing, and Yujun knew a meltdown would come at any second. 

“Seungmin, what do you say to the waiter?” their mother asked as a plate was set before him. Of course the rice was touching the vegetables. Seungmin looked down at it and his breathing increased rapidly. It grew so sporadic that he couldn’t speak. He only opened his mouth and a croak came out, and then a stifled breath. And suddenly Seungmin was rocking even more with his knees scrunched against his body, hands pulling harshly at his hair, muttering the same words under his breath. They were the only words that could calm him down at that point in time. 

“The thalamus is the relay station of the brain… The thalamus is the relay station of the brain… The thalamus is the relay station of the brain…” 

He had learned it from the anatomy textbook Yujun had bought him for his birthday. He had read it more than once, and it had only been six months. But that sentence from the diagram on page 102 was like medicine to him. It did more for Seungmin than Yujun could do in the peak of his freakout. 

Their mother’s reaction was the last straw for Yujun. When she coldly apologized to the waiter and grabbed her younger son by the ear, dragging him through the restaurant as he screamed and scratched himself and struggled to walk, Yujun wouldn’t stand for it anymore. He stood up and followed them, meeting them outside and pulling his brother away from the woman’s grasp. 

“Let’s go, Minnie. It’ll be okay.” Yujun said, sliding the sweater off of the boy so that he was only wearing his white undershirt, and replacing the sweater with his own coat. “Yugyeom lives close. We’ll go over there and you can drink hot chocolate and relax, okay, buddy?” 

Now, at age twenty-nine, looking forward at the twenty-two-year-old adult seated across from him, Yujun felt old. He wondered where all the time had gone, and then he remembered that it hadn’t passed quickly at all. It had been painful and draining. It had taken everything out of him and more, and that’s what made him think of Chan again. 

When was he not thinking about Chan? 

He would do anything for his friend. 

The day they met. Yujun enjoying the sound of the Australian’s accent, and the way he wrote in Korean, as if he were copying a computer’s font (he probably was). Going to parties, midnight Korean lessons over the subjects they would be humiliated to discuss sober. 

_ “What’s ‘blowjob’ in Korean?”  _ followed by fits of endless, drunken laughter that lasted until they both fell asleep red-faced, exhausted. 

And then moments that weren’t so pleasant. Days when Yujun begged Chan to get out of bed. Days when he felt so utterly helpless, like a horrible friend. When his efforts went to nothing and he just  _ couldn’t help _ his best friend, no matter what he tried. 

Minho’s jokes. 

God, Minho’s jokes. 

They were innocent and they would have been funny if Chan hadn’t taken them seriously. Minho joked about everyone, including himself. He was sarcastic. That was his personality and his sense of humor, and everyone accepted it. He was a great kid, even if he didn’t have a filter when he was tipsy. 

The day Yujun got back from class, to hear Minho screaming. 

The day he ran upstairs and saw— 

And then waiting in the hospital, wishing with all of his heart that the doctor would come out soon and give results on Chan’s condition. 

Minho sobbing. 

Minho sobbing more and more for hours and hours, never calming down, not even for a second. 

Whispering apologies to a Chan that wasn’t there and wasn’t awake. 

Pulling his hair and squeezing his hands so tightly that his nails pierced into the skin of his palms and caused it to bleed in thick, dark droplets down his forearms. 

Trying to get Minho to talk for the first month, and not being able to get him to say a word. 

Even when Chan forgave him over and over, he didn’t speak. 

Too afraid to make another mistake. 

Too afraid to— 

“Hyung!” 

Seungmin was snapping his fingers in front of Yujun’s face. The older blinked before meeting the twenty-two-year-old’s gaze. He was with Seungmin, and Chan was alive, and Minho was talking and doing  _ so much _ better than before. 

Fuck, why did this have to be so hard? 

Yujun bit his lip and sighed. 

This would be a long road, but he had hope. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from “You’re Somebody Else” by Flora Cash. 
> 
> I hope you have a great day! Stay safe! You're so special and beautiful and amazing! I appreciate and care about all of you! <3333


	8. i'm trying to control myself so please don't stand in my way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY I'M BACK!!! Thank you so much for the sweet comments on my note. I actually started tearing up because you all are so nice thank you so much <333 ! Hopefully this chapter is interesting enough lol. 
> 
> TW for PTSD. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy! <333

**“The secret of life, though, is to fall seven times and to get up eight times.” - Paulo Coelho,** **_The Alchemist_ **

Three months had passed, and Felix was lucky enough to say that he was improving. 

Chris had been right in his statement that it would take a while to integrate himself back into society after being discharged. Especially being pretty much alone, aside from the occasional texts to Chris in his times of need. It felt extremely comforting to be able to speak to someone in his native language without hearing the words that had been uttered to him so long ago, by the people he was stuck with living in Australia. 

Maybe the English language wasn’t a trigger for him. It was just the fact that he had never been exposed to a single good person who spoke it. Not until Chris. 

And Chris was just one person, but sometimes that was all it took to make a difference. That was all it took to make a person feel less burdened. 

He had gotten back to his job and started a routine of sorts. He was surprised by the benefits a routine could bring to his mental state. Even if things weren’t going the way he wanted them to go, he knew that, waking up, he had a place to be. He no longer had a reason to lay around in bed, feeling useless. He would go to work, and he would study Korean. He was getting better at it, and he was proud of himself for it. 

_ “Maybe you should talk to some people at work.” _ Chris had suggested over the phone a few days before.  _ “Just ask them if they want to hang out. I’m sure someone will say yes.” _

Chris continued to tell Felix that adult life was far different than high school life. He said that people said yes to things because it was genuinely their decision to go, and they didn’t decline because their parents wouldn’t allow them. And Felix wouldn’t have to hide himself from the world because he was independent. He could make decisions for himself, and he had all the power in the world to work toward making his life better and himself happier. 

He was at work, wearing his apron, serving food and taking orders and doing all the shit entailed in the job of being a waiter. He didn’t dislike his job. It made money and it kept him occupied. He had always been an extroverted person, so the act of being friendly to people was not much of a hassle for him. He had never run into any particularly awful customers. There was always the occasional drunk one when he was working dinners, but he was never the one to deal with such a person. Anyone who sent gentle little Felix out to deal with a rowdy drunk person was probably lacking an absurd amount of judgement. 

But he was collecting plates. It was dark outside on a Saturday night, and the streets were raging with commotion. He stepped up to the table of a group he had been serving: a few people who looked to be business colleagues, wearing suits and ties, with a couple women who the men looked to be making uncomfortable with their crude humor. Felix felt sorry for the women, because they probably were forced to put up with their higher-ups’ bullshit in order to keep their jobs. 

“Are you done with your plates?” Felix asked in his best Korean. He wasn’t perfect, but he was getting there. He could speak and understand, even though his words didn’t sound exactly like those of the people surrounding him. 

One of the men was laughing so hard he was crying, leaning heavily onto a small woman who could barely hold up his weight. People were still talking. One of them looked up at Felix with a smirk on his drunken face, saying in slurred words, “Where are you from, kid? You sound like a foreigner.” 

“I’m from Australia, sir.” Felix said, politely, smiling. 

The man started to laugh, turning toward the other adults he was with and saying, “Isn’t his accent ridiculous? He sounds like he tried learning from a textbook.” 

It was true. Felix had been learning from a textbook, because that was all he could afford. He tried to hide the spark of hurt that built in his chest as a result of the drunk man’s words. Was his Korean really  _ that _ bad? He thought he’d been doing well. Chris had complimented him on his pronunciation. He watched as his confidence immediately melted into a puddle at his feet. 

“Come on, kid! Say something else! I want to hear your accent!” said the man, more loudly. Felix looked around, silently, wondering if someone would come to his rescue, but the restaurant was too crowded and noisy for anyone to notice—especially one of his busy coworkers. 

Without saying anything in response, Felix reached shaky hands out to take the plates from the others at the table, a couple of them flashing him apologetic looks. He just wanted the situation to end, but the rowdy man seemed to disagree. 

“Obey your elders! Don’t you have respect? You’re definitely a foreigner!” 

And the man placed his large, sweaty hands on Felix’s shoulders and pushed him, causing the small, frail man to fall to the floor, plates crashing and shattering around him. The loud noise burst through his head and brought shock waves through his heart. Everything was silent. There was a ringing noise. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t speak. He could barely see. 

_ “Do as I say!”  _

_ Slap.  _

_ “Come on, boy! I never should have taken you in! You’re useless! You aren’t worth the money!”  _

_ “No wonder your mum abandoned you! Nobody could ever love you! You’re nothing! Worthless!”  _

_ “You don’t deserve to be here, or  _ anywhere _ for that ma—”  _

Felix blinked and everything was quiet. His head was buzzing and he was trembling from the inside out. His stomach lurched and someone shoved a trash can under his chin before he threw up, and then he leaned back against the surface behind him, drained and confused. He looked up to see lockers and chairs. It was the breakroom. 

“Hey, you with me?” said a very gentle voice. 

Felix looked up at the source of the voice, and was greeted by a soft, thin face and kind eyes. The person had a black bowl-cut that framed his face and contrasted the pale of his skin. It was his coworker, Soobin. 

“It’s okay, Felix. Just take a deep breath. Breathe in… And out… That’s it, you got it. You’re okay.” 

The world grew less fuzzy and Felix gradually felt himself gaining control of his body again. He took a couple minutes to catch his breath before making eye contact with Soobin. They had obviously met beforehand, and Felix had a positive impression of the guy, but they weren’t friends. 

“I’m s-s-sorry.” Felix stuttered out in broken Korean, still shaken and confused. 

“No, man. You don’t need to apologize for anything. It’s not your fault that guy was being an asshole.” Soobin said in a reassuring voice that made Felix feel slightly more relaxed. 

Felix started to cry. He didn’t know why. And he instinctively leaned forward into Soobin’s shoulder. Despite the fact that he’d never been blessed with a plethora of shoulders to cry on in his lifetime, he always felt comforted in someone’s arms. It was just the way he was. 

“Shhh… It’s okay, Felix. It’s okay.” 

After a few minutes, Felix was able to calm down enough to stop crying. His head hurt and he felt weak. He was tired. He didn’t want to be at the restaurant anymore. 

“A-am I g-going to be f-f-fired?” he asked in a small, meek voice. 

“No way. You had a panic attack, which is pretty much the same thing as being too sick to work. They’re letting you off for the night. It’s fine. Do you need me to take you home or call you a taxi?” 

Felix couldn’t think. His brain was applesauce. He just furrowed his brows and stared blankly off into the distance, wondering where he lived. 

“H-home…” he mumbled, confused. 

“Or I can just take you back to my apartment. My roommate’s there, but he won’t mind, I swear. I don’t know if leaving you on your own is a wise decision for the time being.” 

It was as if the anxiety had snatched away Felix’s free will. He just nodded, distantly, and allowed Soobin to slide his arms under his own armpits and gently lift him to his feet. 

“Here, I’ll call a taxi because you don’t look like you’re in any condition to be walking across town at this time of night, with or without my help.” 

The trip to Soobin’s apartment was a blur. He just remembered sitting in the cab, and then stepping into an elevator, and then watching a door open before him, revealing a small apartment with two beds, a bathroom, a couple desks, and a small kitchen area. At one of the desks sat a guy who looked to be about their age, who had brown hair and intense eyes. 

“Felix, this is my roommate, Seungmin. Seungmin-ah, this is my coworker, Felix.” 

“Hi,” Seungmin said in a monotone voice, face serious. 

“H-hi…” Felix mumbled to his best ability, flashing a small, shaky smile. 

“Sorry if I scare you.” Seungmin quickly said. “I have Asperger’s.” 

Felix wanted to reassure him, but he didn’t have the energy to. He just allowed Soobin to set him down on one of the beds and wrap a blanket around his trembling shoulders. A few minutes later, a cup of hot tea was being set in his hands and he was faced with both roommates, on the bed across from him. 

“Felix wasn’t feeling well, so I thought I’d bring him back here. I didn’t think setting him off on his own would be safe.” Soobin told Seungmin, who nodded in understanding. 

“S-sorry…” Felix said to Seungmin. 

“It’s fine. Soobin’s nice and he likes helping people.” 

“Th-thank you.” 

“You sound like you aren’t from here.” 

Felix suddenly felt a spark of fear enter his system as he remembered the drunk man’s cruel words. He felt his breathing increase. 

“Your Korean is good, though.” Seungmin added. “Are you from Australia?” 

Felix nodded, unable to speak. 

“I thought so. My older brother’s roommate is from Australia. He’s a psychologist at the Yellow Wood Hospital.” 

Felix suddenly felt a tinge of surprise. He wondered if they were thinking of the same person. He wondered if they were both thinking of… 

“Chris? Ch-chris Bang?” Felix forced out, curiously. 

“I think that’s his English name, I don’t know. To us he goes by Chan-hyung. Bang Chan.” 

Felix smiled slightly. 

“I know him.” he said, shyly. “He was…” 

“Was he your doctor? Were you in the hospital recently?” 

Fear suddenly filled Felix’s body again and Seungmin’s bluntness. But he knew that it wasn’t the other man’s fault. He couldn’t help the way his brain worked. So Felix only nodded, deciding that Seungmin being open about his Asperger’s was enough for him to admit where he knew Chris from. 

“Wh—” Seungmin began, but Soobin quickly cut him off. 

“Don’t ask why. Let’s talk about something else.” Soobin said, in a blunt, yet understanding way. It seemed to be the best way to treat the situation, because Seungmin immediately understood. 

“Felix, if…” Seungmin said. “If I say anything insensitive, just tell me it’s insensitive. It won’t hurt my feelings.” 

Felix nodded. 

“Chan-hyung is really nice.” Seungmin continued. “I’ve known him for a long time. He was friends with my older brother in college. Whenever I freak out, Chan-hyung is almost as good at calming me down as Yujun-hyung.” 

Felix thought of Chris’s therapy sessions, and how gentle, yet straight-forward he was. How much he seemed to truly care. And Felix looked down at the scars on his wrists, knowing that Chris had been through the same thing as him, and he had gotten out on the other side. 

That was enough to feel hopeful about. 

* * * * *

Chan didn’t just wake up. His entire consciousness exploded. He sat up, panting, sweating, eyes wide open, shaking. He looked out the window, realizing it was bright outside, and checked the time on his phone. 

_ Shit. _

He bolted out of bed and into the shower, just doing his best to wash the sweat off and wake himself up before getting dressed. He grabbed a travel mug, filling it with coffee from the pot Yujun had made earlier, and grabbed for a pill bottle, hoping it was his antidepressant (it had the same general shape, at least), popping one of the pills into his mouth and swallowing it dry. 

Things had gone “back to normal” since Felix was discharged. He was talking to Korean patients, many of which were dealing with illnesses and needed support, and many others in the psych ward dealing with mental health disorders. He no longer looked at his patients and saw his old self, but still the part of him that came out when he was talking to Felix hadn’t left. He was still having nightmares, and he could feel himself growing more and more out of control. His brain was foggy and his hands were unsteady and his energy was low. 

But he had an appointment first thing in the morning with a patient he had never spoken to before. It was expected to be a single session, just to talk things through, since the patient was dealing with a major illness that was causing stress to himself and those he cared about. 

It was Hwang Hyunjin. The model. 

“I’m lucky that I have my parents, I know that. And I’m lucky to have had a successful career and enough money saved to get by for a while. But, still… It’s not sustainable.” Hyunjin told Chan. 

The man looked far different than he had in the pictures from before his diagnosis. He was no longer a beacon of sharp, slick handsomeness. Of course, he still had his facial features and his bone structure, but everything else seemed to have disappeared. The confidence was gone. The sense that he saw himself as beautiful had left him. The look in his eyes and the body language that made him so popular were now gone, along with all of the weight and the color from his skin and the hair on his head. Chan had seen many patients, in all different conditions, but Hyunjin wasn’t supposed to look like this. But he still did, because cancer didn’t discriminate. 

“Your cancer isn’t sustainable, either.” Chan said. “Your doctor wrote down in your file that the treatment is working better than expected—that you’re expected to recover.” 

“That’s not certain, though.” Hyunjin said. “And if I die, whatever. I die, the circle of life, whatever. But I have to take care of my little brother. He had nowhere else to go, unless he wants to be with our parents, and they don’t get along. They don’t know I took him in, and if they find out I did… They’ll cut me off, and I won’t be able to keep paying for him. But now, he’s just alone at the apartment. He’s either here or he’s alone. And I can’t go back and I can’t comfort him because I’m in the hospital. And he’s scared.” 

“Hyunjin, there’s something about being sick that most people can’t accept, but it’s essential. People see their sickness as a giant inconvenience in their daily life, which it definitely is, and all they want is to forget it’s existence. They want to ignore it. They want to keep doing everything they did before. Most sick people don’t want to accept that it’s  _ necessary _ and it’s  _ essential _ and it’s  _ perfectly fine _ that they ask for help. You’re scared right now, Hyunjin, and you’re sad. You’re overwhelmed. You’re exhausted and you aren’t feeling well. Help is just something that everyone has to accept at some point.” 

“I don’t want to… I don’t want to be a burden on people. I don’t want to put them through shit that they don’t have to go through just because I’m too weak to do anything on my own. That’s not fair.” 

“You know what else isn’t fair? It’s the fact that you have cancer. It’s so unfair that you have cancer. And cancer is such a burden on you. It’s putting you through so much pain. It’s making you feel like a different person. I can promise you right here and now that having cancer is a million times worse than helping out a sick friend, or taking care of his little brother for him. And imagine being in the place of the people that love you. Imagine seeing your friend deteriorate and deny your help. Imagine not being able to do everything you possibly can to make the road smoother for your sick friend. That must be so hard, Hyunjin. That must be  _ so hard _ .” 

“You’re thinking about Changbin, aren’t you?” Hyunjin muttered, giving Chan a look that wasn’t positive or negative. It was just there. It was just an emotion. 

“He’s my intern, and I don’t know a lot about his life, but he has told me that he was friends with you, and that he was worried. He also said he wanted to help. Changbin is sweet, he won’t mind.” 

Hyunjin smiled, and it suddenly made sense why the awkward, fumbling psych intern that was Seo Changbin was friends with such a famous model. It was the fact that Changbin was an awkward, fumbling psych intern that made him so endearing. He was probably a million times more genuine and unfiltered than the people Hyunjin worked with on a daily basis. 

When Hyunjin left, the focus wore off immediately, and Chan found himself leaning heavily in his chair, feeling limp and relaxed. He was exhausted. He stared at the wall in an almost high haze, until the door swung open, causing him to jump in startlement. 

“Dr. Bang, we finished all the data.” Jisung said, in a cheerful, excited mood. That was Jisung whenever he finished anything—full of confidence and pride. It was funny. 

Chan found that he could barely hold the papers in front of him. His eyes could barely focus. He felt them droop as the papers fell from his hands to the floor, and when he opened them again, Changbin and Jisung were both standing over him, concerned looks plastered on their young, innocent faces. He tried to stand up, but his knees were too weak and he found himself losing balance. Luckily, both interns caught him and lowered him back down into his chair. 

“Dr. Bang, are you okay?” Changbin asked, eyes wide with worry. 

Chan blinked a few times, thinking back to his morning. 

“I think I may have gotten my meds mixed up.” he said, groggily. “I think I accidentally took a sleeping pill.” 

“Here, Dr. Bang.” Jisung said. “I’ll just do my next session unsupervised and you can sleep here.” 

“No, I can—” 

“You can’t. Go to sleep.” 

And Chan felt his eyelids shut without his permission and the world disintegrate into another dream. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from "Shattered" by The Cranberries.


	9. her eyes open to the dark, the streets all looked so strange they seemed so far away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ends on a pretty scary and sad note, just to warn you, but it is definitely not the end. I'm pretty nervous to post this chapter because I don't want to trigger anyone, but I feel like it's necessary to tell the whole story of Felix's recovery. Don't let it discourage you! 
> 
> TW for panic attacks, mention of past bullying, sensory overload, suicidal thoughts.

**“So belong to us all,**

**Be God in the shape of a girl,**

**Who walks this world**

**And I beg, I beg to be drained,**

**From the pain I’ve soaked myself in,**

**So I can stay**

**Okay, more than okay for a while”**

**\- AURORA, “Infections of a Different Kind”**

  
  


Nothing was okay. 

Absolutely nothing was okay, and there was nothing Chan could do to fix it. 

The blinds were shut tightly because he just couldn’t stand to look at the gray sky out the window. He was a clinical psychologist, but before that he was a person. Chan was a person whose body was reacting in ways that hurt and made him want to go somewhere else. 

Where would he go? 

Where was a place where the sun poked through the clouds and the sky was blue? 

Where was a field where it was warm and beautiful all the time, with comfort radiating from the grass and soft hands reaching toward him from the sky, lifting him and filling him up like nobody had ever done before? 

The plant by the window needed sunlight, but Chan couldn’t grant it to the poor thing. 

The gray was just too much for his eyes. 

Too much for his heart. 

Too much for everything. 

He could feel it coming. The trembling of his hands and the tightness of his chest. The way his stomach churned, spreading hot tension through his torso, up his spinal cord, into his brain. Into his face. Turning him completely numb on the outside. Only on the outside. 

His body was no longer his. It didn’t belong to anyone. It was living on its own accord, and he was only suffering the effects of its violent freedom. The way his heart grew strong and fast. The way his breath left his lungs like the deflation of a balloon. 

He needed to get up. 

He needed to  _ do something _ . 

Deep breaths, deep breaths. 

Steady. 

No, it wasn’t working. 

The world was fuzzy. 

The lights were too bright and the sounds were too loud. 

He needed to get out of his office. 

Through the hallways, out of the psych ward, out of the hospital. Passing people that didn’t matter in a world that wasn’t really there. The only thing Chan knew at that moment was that he felt sick and his heart was going to explode. 

It was cold outside, and the chill filled Chan’s bones and made everything hurt even more. 

He was dizzy. 

It was dark. 

Cars and people zoomed around him and he couldn’t keep up. 

The world was spinning. 

His head was spinning. 

He could no longer stand. 

_ “Hyung? What’s up? Are you okay?” _ It was Minho. Chan was holding his phone against his ear, listening to the distant, digital sound of his younger friend’s voice. 

He couldn’t control his breathing and his chest was on fire. He felt nauseous and he could barely feel the sweat that coated his skin, as though the surface had been covered with a layer of wax. There was too much and too little and everything was combining together and he couldn’t  _ see _ and his face was numb and he was shaking too hard to move and— 

_ “Hyung, deep breaths. Here, breathe with me. In for six, out for six. In… Out… Hey, don’t listen to anything else. Close your eyes and just listen to my voice. Just me. That’s all that matters. In… Out… In… Out… There you go. You’re getting it. Again. In… Out… In… Out… In… Out…”  _

It took several minutes, but Chan was finally able to feel that wash of relief swim through his body as the world sharpened and the feeling returned to his face and fingers. He leaned back against the convenience store window he was leaning against and breathed, feeling his heart begin to slow down and his body become his again. He didn’t want to move. He closed his eyes, taking in the feeling of life and the control that was seeping back into him. It was so nice. 

_ “Hyung, where are you? I’m gonna come get you.” _ Minho said. Chan almost forgot he was still on the phone with Minho. 

Chan opened his eyes slowly, as the sounds around him grew louder. 

“Um…” he said in a weak, quiet voice. “I’m in front of the convenience store. The one, um… The one near Yellow Wood I think…” 

_ “Okay, I’ll be there in a minute. Don’t go anywhere.”  _

“Okay…” 

The call ended and Chan closed his eyes again, relaxation taking over his body and sounds growing dim again. The nausea was gone and the panic was gone and he was so tired. The world was disintegrating, turning to mush, echoing from ear to ear in a quiet buzz that made him grow heavier and heavier until— 

“Hey, Chan-hyung. It’s me. It’s Minho.” 

A warm, gentle hand was touching his shoulder, and Chan almost thought he would open his eyes to see that field he had been thinking of earlier. Instead, he was met by the concerned eyes and handsome face of Lee Minho. There wasn’t much of a difference, though. Only the fact that Minho was scared. He was scared, but he still did everything he could because friendship was more important to him than fear. 

Minho’s coat was draped over Chan’s shoulders and they were walking, walking, walking, until they were back in a place that was so warm and so bright and so familiar. Chan was on the couch, covered in blankets, while a man wearing a familiar cat t-shirt that was riddled with holes hugged him tightly. 

Chan cried because he didn’t understand, and then he fell asleep. 

* * * * *

When Yujun stepped into Hyunjin’s hospital room, the atmosphere was already tense. 

He was accustomed to an atmosphere that was quiet, exhausted, plagued by the illness of the young man who wasn’t  _ supposed _ to be unhealthy. He was accustomed to the silent, fearful love that filled the room, and the sense of duty that corrupted any particle of peace. It wasn’t like his older patients, whose family members surrounded them without much hope but the fact that their loved one had lived a long life that would be tragically coming to an end. Yujun was accustomed to checking in on his older patients and being looked at in the way a grandparent would look at a grandchild. 

He remembered a single time when a dying patient had requested to see him, and as her memory was fading, begged him to pretend to be her dead son. It had taken Yujun a long time to get over that. It had hurt him in places he didn’t know he could hurt. 

But this was  _ different _ . 

Hyunjin was crying into the silence of the room. Jeongin was slumped in a chair, asleep. He was still wearing his school uniform. The lights seemed so dim and too bright, and the sky outside was dark and starless—constellations smeared by the invisible clouds that hovered over the city. For some people, those clouds were always there. For Hyunjin and Jeongin. For Chan. 

And all Yujun did was try to push the clouds away when he didn’t even know where they were. 

He could pretend he did. 

Yujun’s life was full of pretending, because sometimes pretending was better. It showed that, even if you don’t understand and you don’t know, you can still care. 

“How are you feeling?” Yujun asked Hyunjin, quietly, in efforts to avoid waking up the boy in the chair. Jeongin looked exhausted, dark bags hanging from beneath his softly shut eyes, a pallid shadow that made his face seem so angular and so depleted. 

Hyunjin sniffed, gazing at his younger brother, and said, “I might have to send him back.” 

Yujun furrowed his brows, asking, “Back where?” 

“Back with our parents.” 

“Hey, I thought you talked to Channie—I mean  _ Dr. Bang _ —about this. You said you were willing to ask for help, and your friend Changbin seems pretty eager and willing to help you.” 

“Changbin has his own life…” Hyunjin was whispering. “He has a job and a life and a crazy roommate. He’s trying to become a psychologist, and I know how much effort he put into this job. Sending Jeongin with him is just slowing him down. He’s spending time worrying about me when he should be worried about himself. And I’m sure Jisung’s not super happy that his roommate’s bringing a kid back home with him several times a week.” 

“Hey, you don’t know most of that. As far as I’ve heard, Changbin seems to be doing  _ very well _ in his residency, and he’s expected to become a full-fledged psychologist next year. And have you ever considered the fact that Jeongin is going to be an adult, too, soon? He’s not a small child that needs to be cared for 24/7, and he’s not too young to relate to people a little bit older than him, like you and Changbin and Jisung. Jisung’s even younger than you. To be honest with you, I met Jisung once at a get together, and the kid’s a tornado. He’s definitely young enough to relate to someone like Jeongin.” 

Hyunjin sighed and leaned back, looking so incredibly drained. 

“I only met Jisung a couple of times.” he mumbled, exhaustedly. “But I guess you’re right. The first time I met him…” His exhausted stare morphed into a small smile. “His eyes went wide and his mouth was hanging open. He looked like a frightened squirrel. And he just went, ‘Wah! Are you a model? Your face looks like… It looks like a pretty damn handsome face!’ I said I was, and he slapped Changbin on the arm and said, ‘How are  _ you _ friends with a model?’ Changbin was so embarrassed, but… I think they make good roommates. There’s never a dull moment with Jisung. 

“I guess…” Hyunjin bit his lip. “This is going to sound screwed up, but… I see Jeongin as  _ mine _ . He’s my responsibility. I kind of own him for the time being, until he’s old enough to be out on his own. And it just feels shitty to pass him onto someone else. Like I’ll be wasting their time and energy. I don’t want Changbin to struggle with any part of his life because of me. I don’t deserve for him to do this much for me.” 

“That’s not true.” said a voice from behind them. Yujun turned around to see Changbin standing in the doorway, expression caring and genuine and worried. He stepped into the room, looking at Hyunjin. “If anyone owes the other one something, it’s  _ me _ that owes  _ you _ .” 

“No, you don’t, Changbin. You don’t owe me anything.” 

“Hyunjin, if it weren’t for you, I don’t know where I’d be right now… You don’t seem to understand how I felt before I met you. How  _ alone _ I was. I had nobody. I didn’t have any friends, my parents were never home and they barely loved me, I was smaller than everyone else. Every day, those dumb fucking kids would come up to me and tell me I was worthless. They would kick me around and push me down the stairs and make me feel like trash. I’d been dealing with them for years, but it was the same. It was only getting worse as we got older. They started telling me to do awful things to myself. They started sabotaging everything. I had nothing. You don’t understand, Hyunjin, before I met you I was so depressed, I didn’t… I didn’t know…” Changbin started to cry. “I didn’t know how long I was going to be able to make it. I thought it just wasn’t worth it.” 

“Oh, Binnie…” Hyunjin said, holding his arms out for the intern to fall into his embrace. Hyunjin may have lost a significant amount of weight from the treatment, but he was still taller than Changbin, with long arms that wrapped around him perfectly. “You’re so important, Binnie. I’m so glad you’re happier now.”

“You probably don’t even remember this, but when you just smiled at me on the first day you started at the school, I was so shocked and happy, because nobody had ever done that for me. Nobody ever smiled at me there, because it was just a fad to hate me. If someone didn’t hate me, they were bullied. But you weren’t. You were  _ perfect _ in every way. You were rich, and you were handsome, and you were nice. I was shocked that someone like you was willing to even look at someone like me. You weren’t ashamed to be around me, and you didn’t get bullied because of me, and it started to make me feel like I wasn’t worthless anymore.” 

Changbin pulled away from Hyunjin, eyes red, looking so much smaller and younger than he had the last time Yujun had seen him. If the story hadn’t been so sad, Yujun would have cooed at the young intern’s soft appearance. 

“If it wasn’t for you, Hyunjin…” Changbin was wiping his tears away with his wrists, voice still unsteady. “If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t even be a psychologist. Because I wanted to die before, and I felt sad all the time, and I felt like nobody would ever understand me or know me or want to be around me, but you talked to me like I was important… And it made me realize that sometimes, that’s all it takes to save someone. Just seeing them for who they are and treating them warmly. And listening to someone helps, too. Talking to you about how I was feeling made me feel so understood, even though you probably didn’t know how I was feeling, and it was scary, but it was worth it. And I decided that I wanted to help people like how you helped me.” 

“God, Binnie. You’re making me cry.” Hyunjin said. 

“So, whatever I have to do, I know it’s worth it. Because I would feel like shit if I didn’t help you right now. You don’t even understand how much you deserve it. I can take care of Jeongin. He can live with me until you’re discharged. That’s totally fine with me.” 

“Hyung…” said a small, groggy voice from across the room. It was Jeongin, who was sitting up in the chair, eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry for being a burden… I’m sorry Changbin-hyung… I’m sorry… I just get in the way, you shouldn’t have to deal with me…” 

“No, Innie, that’s not—” 

“I’ll just go.” Jeongin said, standing up and running out of the room, starting to sob. 

“Fuck.” Hyunjin said, massaging his temples. 

“I’ll go get him.” Changbin said. “He’ll be okay. It’ll be okay.” 

And Changbin left the room, turning in the direction Jeongin had run. 

* * * * *

_ Soobin _ : 

Hey you wanna hang out? 

_ Me _ : 

Ok what’s the plan?

_ Soobin _ : 

You said ur good af at mario kart 

Seungmin and i are kinda having a competition

Thought you might be able to beat us 

_ Me _ : 

idk it’s been a while since i played 

Last time was in Australia

_ Soobin _ : 

Tbh i highkey suck at it so u should be good

And so does Seungmin

I think it’s all the studying he does

Messes with his ability to do unproductive shit

I wish i could relate ngl

_ Me _ : 

Lol same

What time?

_ Soobin _ : 

Does now work for u? 

Lol 

_ Me _ : 

Yeah i’m not doing anything

I guess i’ll be over there in a few 

_ Soobin _ : 

C u 

Felix changed out of his t-shirt and into a long-sleeved shirt that would hide his scars. He didn’t want Soobin and Seungmin to know about him. He didn’t want anybody knowing. It was too embarrassing. 

Felix thought of the times he had played Mario Kart, back in high school. He remembered buying the game with money he made giving swimming lessons at the pool and hiding it under his mattress. When his foster father was at work, he would sneak into the TV room and put it in the playstation (which his foster father almost never used, but still owned). He didn’t have any friends to play against, but it was still fun. It got his mind off of things. It made him feel like he was getting better at something—like he was powerful. It felt safe. It made him feel like everything would be okay, even if it was just for a couple hours. 

He hadn’t touched the game since, but Felix still had positive memories associated with it. He thought of the graphics and colors and felt a warmth in his chest that he determined to be nostalgia. How was it possible for Felix to experience nostalgia? It was amazing. 

Felix was nervous, but he was always nervous when it came to any form of social interaction. He had gotten a lot closer to Soobin and Seungmin over the past couple weeks, and he finally felt as though he had something resembling friendship. Perhaps Soobin didn’t see him the same way. Perhaps he only felt sorry for him. But it was still better than anything he’d had before, because he wasn’t alone. 

Soobin answered the door at Felix’s first knock, exposing the Australian to the smell of buttery popcorn and the sound of Seungmin shouting at a television screen. 

“Hey, dude!” Soobin said. “Have a seat, Seungmin’s trying to pick his character.” 

Felix smiled and sat on the floor in front of the TV, beside Seungmin, who didn’t pay him any attention. Seungmin’s eyes were squinted as he flipped from character to character before finally settling on Donkey Kong. He seemed tense, loudly grinding his teeth together, and every couple seconds, his right eye would twitch violently. 

“Okay,” said Soobin, setting the bowl of popcorn on the floor in front of them. 

The other two players picked their characters and started to play. It took a few minutes for Felix to get used to the newer version of the game, but he eventually got the hang of it and found himself in first place. He smiled as he zoomed past the other players through the finish line. 

“Fuck you, Felix.” Soobin joked. “I didn’t know you’d be  _ this _ good.” 

Felix laughed, saying, “I didn’t, either.” 

In the middle of the next race, Seungmin dropped his controller, squeezing his eyes shut and covering his ears with his palms. Soobin immediately stopped playing, turning toward his friend, and Felix neglected the game as well. He worriedly looked at Seungmin, and how stressed he seemed. 

“Too loud…” Seungmin mumbled to Soobin, who turned off the television, drowning the small apartment in silence. 

It took a few minutes for Seungmin to calm down, but he did eventually. 

“You feeling better, Min?” Soobin asked, consideration etched into his handsome face. Felix was still incredibly worried. He had no idea what had just happened. 

Seungmin nodded, saying, “That hasn’t happened before. I guess it was just all the sounds and colors and people. I got overwhelmed.” 

Soobin turned to Felix, explaining, “People with autism get sensory overload, where they feel like too much is going on at once and it stresses them out. He’s okay.” 

After another few minutes of talking quietly, Seungmin seemed to be back to normal, taking a weight off of both Felix’s and Soobin’s chests. Felix remembered having an autistic classmate in school, back in Australia. He remembered how the boy would misread social cues and react harshly to certain noises or textures. He remembered how much the poor boy was bullied for it. It made Felix extremely glad that Seungmin was able to find someone who understood him and saw past his Asperger’s. Beyond the struggles of dealing with the disorder, Seungmin and the boy from Felix’s class were still people with their own preferences and passions and goals and opinions and needs. 

“I’m gonna put this bowl away.” Soobin said, standing up. 

However, instead of simply walking to the sink and setting the bowl down, Soobin’s foot caught on Felix’s arm, causing him to trip and almost fall. Felix watched in horror as the pain in his arm turned red and seeped through his sleeve. 

“I’m so sorry, are you—” Soobin began, but was quickly cut off by Seungmin. 

“He’s bleeding.” Seungmin said. “I’ll get my first aid kid.” 

Felix felt as though his walls were crumbling all at once. He couldn’t let them see. He couldn’t let them know. He clenched his hand over the red spot, feeling his heart begin to race and dread rise in his stomach. 

“It’s f-fine, you don’t need to do anything…” Felix said, voice unsteady. 

“That’s a lot of blood.” Seungmin said after returning with the kit and opening it up. “Roll your sleeve up, I’m going to disinfect it.” 

“N-no, it’s o-okay…” Felix said, causing both roommates to look at him, confused. 

“We’re just going to take care of the cut for you, Felix.” Soobin said. “We’re not gonna hurt you.” 

Seungmin reached his hand out to grab Felix’s arm, and Felix felt tears fill his eyes as he allowed him to do so. When Seungmin rolled his sleeve up, the atmosphere changed completely. Felix’s heart fell to the bottom of his ribcage. The world stopped spinning and everything turned to ice. 

They were looking at his cuts. 

His scars. 

The small ones scattered along his arm, and the thick one on his wrist. 

Felix felt like he was going to throw up. He pulled his arm away and stood up, tears streaming down his face, and ran out of the apartment as fast as he possibly could, tearing down the stairs and out into the weather outside. He was gasping for breath because his heart wouldn’t calm down. He couldn’t believe what had just happened. 

Soobin and Seungmin had looked at the cuts with so much shock. 

They probably thought he was pathetic. 

Disgusting. 

Nobody would want to be friends with him. 

He was too messed up for friends. 

He was too messed up for anything. 

_ “You’re a parasite,” _ his foster father had told him.  _ “Nobody will ever love you.” _

Maybe he was right. 

Maybe Felix wasn’t cut out for people. 

Maybe he wasn’t cut out for anything. 

Maybe he wasn’t cut out for life, either, he thought. 

He _thought_. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Charlotte Sometimes" by The Cure. 
> 
> Everyone always reaches a place where they feel like their progress is down the drain, and that they're never going to better, but that's not true! It'll get better, you just need to keep fighting! I believe in you! <333


	10. i was transformed by your grounded and giving and darkening scorn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this chapter is very long and very sentimental. Also, I may have teared up a little while writing it. I blame the playlist of Aurora songs I was listening to while writing this lol. 
> 
> TW for suicide attempt (nothing graphic or bloody or anything like that), mention of suicide, depression, mention of bipolar disorder, mention of child abuse, anxiety. 
> 
> I will go ahead and say that this chapter is a lot more positive that the last, despite the TW.

_ “Jeonginnie,” _

The shivering teenage boy looked up from the sidewalk below him and saw a familiar car pulled over a few feet away from the bus stop. The passenger’s window was open, and Jeongin could vaguely see a bowl of black hair and a pointy chin that were so familiar. The window rolled up, and then the door on the driver’s side opened, and Changbin got out, starting to walk toward him. 

Jeongin had memories of Changbin that went back to his young childhood. Since Hyunjin was so much older than him, he would often look up to the boy’s friends and beg to play with them. Many of them would tell him to go away, but Changbin had never been like that. He would play games with Jeongin and let him win (Jeongin was old enough to look back and realize that was what happened). He would listen to the little boy’s long-winded stories about a game that happened on the playground or a comic book he’d read. 

Jeongin remembered one night, when Changbin had shown up at their doorstep breathless and upset. Hyunjin had taken him up to his room, and Jeongin heard hushed voices through the wall. He could tell that Changbin was crying. He had knocked on the door, expecting there to not be an answer, but Hyunjin opened it, looking down at the child. 

“Hyung…” Jeongin had muttered in his tiny, little voice. “Is everything okay?” 

Hyunjin sighed, looking back at Changbin for a second, then picked Jeongin up and carried him over to the bed, where Changbin was sitting. 

“Cheer Changbin up for me, please, Innie? I think he needs hugs and kind words.” Hyunjin had said. 

Jeongin remembered hopping into the older boy’s lap and throwing his arms around his neck, saying, “I love you Changbin-hyung you’re the best friend Hyunjin-hyung could ever have you’re so cool and nice you’re my favorite person!” 

Changbin had started to laugh through the tears that still spilled from his eyes while Hyunjin faked a look of shock, putting a hand on his chest and saying to Jeongin, “So  _ I’m _ not your favorite person anymore? I’m offended!” 

Jeongin had just tackled his brother, saying, “No, no, hyung! You’re my favorite person sometimes but Changbin-hyung is my favorite person other times!” 

Jeongin had never discovered what had happened to make Changbin cry, but he remembered sitting on his lap for a long time that night, and then waking up on Hyunjin’s bed and waking the two older boys up by jumping up and down, squealing. 

Maybe Jeongin had so much faith in Hyunjin and Changbin because they had done more for him than his parents ever had. They definitely loved him more. 

“Jeongin, are you okay?” Changbin asked, forcing his voice to be gentle as he approached the young boy, rain splashing into his hair and dripping down his face and onto his jacket. Jeongin was taller than him now. How had that happened? 

All Jeongin could do was burst into tears and fall into Changbin’s open arms. 

“Are you hurt?” Changbin asked. 

“No, hyung. I’m okay.” 

“Good. Let’s get into the car. It’s cold as shit out here.” 

Jeongin followed Changbin to the car and sat in the passenger’s seat, buckling his seatbelt as Changbin sent a quick text message to who probably was Hyunjin. 

“Hyunjin needs to rest, so we’re just gonna go back to my place tonight and then you guys can talk things out tomorrow, okay?” 

“Hyung…” Jeongin felt the tears still streaming from his eyes. “I’m sorry… You don’t have to keep dragging me around like this. I’m just a burden on you. I’m a waste of—” 

“Stop it, Jeongin.” Changbin’s voice was firm. “I’ve known you since you were tiny. You’re like my little brother. I would be a fucking asshole if I didn’t do this for you. And I  _ want _ to.” 

Jeongin was silent for the rest of the ride, watching the rain fall from the dark sky onto buildings and benches and umbrellas and heads. He glanced over at Changbin, seeing how he held the wheel in his hands, steadily and confidently. He had gone out to look for Jeongin. Hyunjin had probably worn himself out worrying about him. Jeongin started to feel extremely guilty. His thoughts spun in circles around his head, telling him he was useless and a waste of space and just making everything harder for— 

“We’re here. And I can practically see your negative thoughts. Trust me, it’s okay. And since we’re back earlier I bet Jisung’s gonna be out of his dungeon.” Changbin said. 

The two of them exited the car and stepped into the apartment building, taking the elevator up to the fifth floor. Changbin’s door was only a few feet away from the elevator, which made it pretty easy to find. Changbin opened the door, revealing the warm light of the apartment and the face of Changbin’s small, squirrel-looking roommate, Jisung. 

“God, Jisung.” Changbin whined in a voice that always made Jeongin laugh. “Can you not make a mess for five minutes? Why did I choose to be your roommate? This is ridiculous.” 

“Because you love me, Binnie-hyung.” Jisung responded, puckering his lips, to the older’s disgust. 

“Clean this shit up before I beat your ass.” 

“Oh, you wanna go down on my ass? I see how this—” 

“JISUNG! I’m giving you five seconds to shut up and do as I said or I’m going to punch you in the fucking face!” 

Jisung’s eyes grew wide and he quickly surrendered, picking up the food wrappers he had left on the couch and running them to the trash can. Jeongin laughed. He had never seen this side of Changbin, but he liked it. 

“Oh, is this the kid you’ve been bringing back after I go to bed sometimes?” Jisung asked as Changbin and Jeongin got settled in the living room. 

“You mean, when you’re rolling around in your own garbage watching nature documentaries or whatever the fuck you spend your time doing?” Changbin corrected. 

“Hey, at least I’m not short like you!” 

“What’s up with the short jokes? They’re getting old.” 

“Shouldn’t you say… What’s  _ down? _ ” 

Changbin lifted his hand and Jisung cowered and apologized. 

“But yeah, this is Jeongin. Hyunjin’s little brother. Don’t scare the kid. I know you do that.” 

“Says the guy threatening to beat the shit out of me.” Jisung turned his attention to Jeongin, smiling brightly. He was older than Jeongin, but he seemed slightly nervous. “Hi, Jeongin. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Jisung, Changbin-hyung’s roommate.” 

Jeongin bowed, saying, “It’s nice to meet you too, Jisung-ssi.” 

“You can call me hyung. It’s not that often people call me that so I savor the feeling whenever it hits.” 

“Sorry about him,” Changbin said, pointing his thumb at his roommate. “He’s kinda strange.”

“Stop it, hyung. I thought I was doing well…” Jisung said, lightheartedness having been plucked from his facial expression. Changbin seemed to pick up on it, patting his friend’s back. 

“I’m sorry, Sungie. I didn’t mean it like that. I think you’re doing great.” 

“It’s okay.” 

So they constantly roasted each other, but they drew the line and apologized when something hit too deep. It sounded like a pretty amusing friendship to Jeongin. They quarrelled like siblings. 

Jeongin sat there, silently, for a few minutes. Jisung was also a psych intern, and he worked with Changbin. Jeongin found out that Jisung was twenty-three years old and extremely smart, having skipped a grade in high school and doubled up classes in college so that he could graduate early and get to grad school. He lived off of scholarships, basically, and he was extremely quick witted. 

Jeongin also learned that just about everyone seemed to have a reason for becoming a doctor. Changbin had decided to go into psychology because of his own struggles with depression and desire to help others. Jisung also had his own reason. 

“Ever since I was little,” Jisung said. “I’ve always been shy around people. I used to hide behind my parents, and when I got older it was hard for me to make friends because I was too scared to talk to people. It got kind of out of hand when I was in high school. I had to give a group presentation in class, and we split up the slides. I practiced my lines perfectly and felt really comfortable, but when I was in front of the class, I just froze. I couldn’t speak. I was shaking and I could barely keep my balance. And it was dead silent for a while, until everyone started laughing at me. The other kids in my group were pissed. I went home feeling like shit, and I thought that I would never be able to be a normal person. And I started having panic attacks about it. I would have panic attacks whenever I had to go anywhere that had more than a few people, and I was afraid to leave my room for a while. 

“In college, I wanted to branch out and try something new, because I’d been so isolated for so long. I was just the smart, silent guy that nobody ever talked to. I went to this event. I think it was a showing of one of the plays. I met Changbin-hyung there. I felt super trapped in the crowd, so I had to step out, and he was also there. I think he got bored of it. He didn’t look down on me for stuttering and being awkward, and we started talking and realized we were into almost all the same things. We both were psych majors, and we both liked writing lyrics, and we both were thinking about clinical psychology. It just seemed to work out. He helped me get treated for my anxiety, and he gives me a lot of encouragement. So, I guess if it weren’t for Changbin-hyung, I’d still be a loner. I don’t even know how I’d make it through the internship. I probably would have just frozen up and lost it on the first day.” 

Jeongin started to realize that nobody did anything on their own. Changbin couldn’t improve his mental health without the support of Hyunjin, and Jisung couldn’t overcome the obstacles of his anxiety without Changbin there to help him. Everyone always needed help, and the idea of doing everything yourself seemed pretty unrealistic. 

So, as the night grew darker and they all grew more tired, Jeongin started thinking about Hyunjin, and he didn’t hold himself back. He cried. He cried about how much he wanted his brother to get better. He cried about how hard it was to sit in his hospital room day after day, wondering if he would survive or not. It was hard to see Hyunjin get so sick. It was hard to try to balance everything. It was just so hard. It was too much. 

And Changbin and Jisung just hugged him and told him everything he felt was valid, and Jeongin started to believe it, himself. 

“I couldn’t even imagine what it must be like to go through what you’re going through, Jeongin.” Jisung said. “You’re welcome to come here whenever you want. I think you’re a cool kid, too.” 

“You don’t have to go through this alone.” Changbin said. “You and I are both worried about Hyunjin. You’re not the only one who’s scared shitless and trying to cope. You’ve always got me.” 

Maybe it was okay to ask for help. 

Maybe it was okay to accept it. 

* * * * *

Minho was asleep. 

He had another panic attack that evening, when Chan got home after having forgotten to answer his phone.

Chan looked down at his friend, guilt aching in his chest, because he knew the guy hadn’t been getting enough sleep. He had been up late at night, worrying about Chan, probably digging into the details of everything he had said and done to his friend recently, trying to decide if he had made a mistake. It hurt Chan’s heart to look down at his friend and see the years-old guilt and fear that would never wash away. The trauma of it all. 

That was what happened when you did something as extreme as Chan had done in the past. 

It affects  _ everyone _ . It hurts  _ everyone _ . Especially those you wish to never feel pain. Those you love. 

The “therapist voice” appeared in Chan’s head for the first time in a while. It struck him with comfort and logic. It was the voice he used on himself and others. 

_ “Minho is hurting because he loves you.”  _

_ “If you value and take care of yourself, that doesn’t just positively affect you, but it also positively affects those around you.”  _

_ “All Minho wants is for you to feel better. That’s why he’s anxious. That’s why he got anxious the first time. It was all because he wanted you to love yourself as much as he loved you, and he was afraid something he did was stopping you from that. Show him that’s not true.”  _

The “therapist voice” was strong, but it wasn’t enough. Chan knew it wasn’t enough. He knew that he needed more. He knew that Minho deserved to see him better. He knew that he deserved to see himself better. 

Chan draped a blanket over Minho’s still, steadily breathing body and slid off of his friend’s bed. He needed fresh air, so he decided to go for a walk. 

It had been a while since he’d gone out alone like this, just to think. The last time he’d done it, he was younger and less experienced. His “therapist voice” hadn’t been fully developed then. Chan looked at the streets, slick with rain water, and smelled the city. It all brought him back to old times. Bad feelings. Horrible feelings. Feelings that wanted to kill him. But also comforting feelings. The small episodes of brightness that graced his bad days and made him really want to push through. 

What was that like? 

That first year? 

Successes and failures. He moved forward and tripped a few times. He felt hopeless. He got triggered by the smallest things and felt so small. But those bad days would pass. They always did, even when it felt like they wouldn’t. They always passed. 

He remembered the good days coming. He remembered how he would write notes on what he had done to feel so much better that day. He had prioritized his health. He had thought about what he wanted to do. He had taken a deep breath and felt his arms, his legs, his hands, his feet, his face, his neck, his everything, and realized that he was alive. It wasn’t just his rapidly beating heart. It wasn’t just his unbalanced brain. He had an entire body that lived and wanted to continue living. That felt things. That was  _ his _ . 

There were so many things that were his, even if they didn’t always belong to him. Things belonged to different people at different times for different reasons. The ground he stepped on was his. The streets he gazed at were his. The buildings were his. The river was his. Everything was his, because they were all part of his memory. They were all part of his life. His surroundings, his home, his free will. 

If there are so many people in the world, why is it that so many of them feel as if they are alone? 

Maybe it’s because they aren’t. 

And if they are, they don’t have to be. 

The whole world was in front of Chan just to walk across. All of it. There were so many people to look at. So many different lives. So many people trying to do exactly the same thing as he was— _ get by _ . There were so many different ways to get by, but the intent was the same. 

Chan found himself on the bridge over Han River, thinking about how every step was his and how the oxygen he breathed was his and the carbon dioxide he exhaled was also his, being pushed out into the world, swimming in the sky, feeding the nature around him. And that was when he saw him. 

That was when he saw Felix. 

He was trying to climb up onto the railing, but his efforts were fairly unsuccessful due to the slipperiness of the metal and the rubber of his shoes. Why did Chan think he saw himself? Himself at twenty-two. 

“Felix!” he shouted, starting to run toward the boy. Felix didn’t hear him at first, lifting his leg up again, only for it to slip back to the ground below him. “Felix!” 

He stopped a few feet away from him, and Felix looked up, blinking. He was drenched from head to toe. His eyes were big and sad. His arm was bleeding. 

“Felix, I’m here now. It’s okay. I’m here.” Chan said, not sure what else to say. He had never coached someone out of a suicide attempt before. 

Felix started sobbing, running over to Chan and collapsing into his arms, heavy, cold, wet, alive. Chan squeezed him tightly, fingers of one hand grasping onto the material of his shirt and those of the other hand cupping the back of the boy’s head as if nailing him to his body, keeping him from doing what he had been thinking of. 

“Shh… It’s okay, Felix. It’s okay. You’re gonna be okay.” 

“I r-really t-t-tried, Chris…” Felix choked out, voice hoarse and muffled in Chan’s shoulder. “B-but it d-didn’t work. I j-j-just mess e-everything up in the end… I’m h-hopeless.” 

“That’s not true. We all fall down. And we all feel alone. And we all feel like we’ll never get better, but… That’s not true. Because I believe in you. And I’m so fucking glad you’re safe.” 

Chan could barely think of the words to say. He was in shock. All he could process was the fact that he was holding Felix in his arms and he was  _ alive _ . He wondered if he would ever be able to let the boy go after this. 

It must have been at least twenty minutes before Felix’s sobs died down and Chan felt comfortable loosening his grip on his former patient. He slowly pulled back, taking in the details of Felix’s expression. The puffiness of his eyes. The desperation in his eyes. The fear. The innocence. 

That was Little Chris, wasn’t it? 

Little Chris was sitting in those eyes. 

“Come on, Felix. You can sleep on the couch at my place. Just so that I know you’re safe and taken care of.” Chan said, wrapping his fingers around Felix’s arm and starting to walk him in the direction of his home. 

Now, the ground belonged to Felix, too. The air belonged to Felix. The entire world around them belonged to Felix, and he didn’t know it yet. 

Felix wanted to be taken care of. He needed to be taken care of. That’s all he’d ever wanted his entire life, and that’s all he’d never gotten until he was admitted at Yellow Wood. It was what Chan promised himself he would give to Felix. Give to Little Chris. 

The house was silent when Chan unlocked the door and pushed it open. It was so much warmer than the weather outside, and much less wet. Felix opened his eyes wide, as if he had never seen a place so nice. What could Chan say? It was a house that belonged to a group of doctors. 

“Here, I’ll get you some dry clothes to change into and then I’ll look at that cut on your arm.” Chan said, rushing into his room and finding a t-shirt and pair of sweatpants, hoping the drawstring would tie tight enough to fit the smaller guy. 

While Felix was getting changed, Chan peeled his raincoat off and shook his hair. His jeans were wet near the ends, but he didn’t care. When Felix stepped out, the clothes were, as predicted, adorably baggy on him, and his cut was out and ready to be treated. 

“My roommate’s a nurse, so I think I have a pretty good idea on how to deal with cuts and stuff.” Chan said, disinfecting the wound before bandaging it. All of Felix’s scars were out. They were all visible. But Felix didn’t seem to mind, because he trusted Chan with every fiber of his being. If only Chan, at that age, had been able to feel the comfort and safety to do something like that. If only he had that now. 

“Thank you, Chris.” Felix mumbled. “Thank you so much.” 

“Don’t thank me.” Chan said. “I should be the one thanking you. You kinda… You kinda made me realize a few things about myself that probably would’ve continued to eat at me for a long time if you hadn’t come along.” 

“Like what?” 

“Like I need to stop hiding. I need to stop pretending I’m okay when I’m not. I need to stop running.” 

Felix reached a hand forward, wrapping his fingers around Chan’s wrist and pulling the sleeve up so he could see the scars. He ran his fingers over them, gently, daintily, with so much care. He didn’t look sad or scared or disgusted. It was almost as if he was looking down at the psychologist’s scars like they were the most beautiful thing in the world. 

“Chris,” Felix began, voice wavering. “What happened to you? The whole thing? What happened to you?” 

Chan wasn’t sure if he’d even told the story to himself, let alone another person. Let alone a former patient of his, who was years younger than him and so innocent. But he had never met someone he saw so much of himself in. He had never met someone like Felix, who would understand every bit and piece of his past and identify with it and trust him in everything he did in spite of it. 

Sometimes pain is what makes you realize how powerful you are. 

How powerful you can be in spite of it all. 

Right then, Chan was powerful. 

So he spoke. 

“When I was a kid, my parents weren’t ready for me. They had a really bad relationship. When I was five or six, they separated, and neither of them wanted me. My mom was never around. She was always going out and drinking and stuff. One night, she didn’t come home. I found out that she’d been hit by a car while she was drunk. She was in a coma for a long time, but they cut off life support when they realized she was never coming out of it. She was basically brain dead at that point. 

“My dad was super pissed she died because I got handed off to him. My dad was complicated. I feel like he might have had bipolar disorder, because he would get really, really depressed for a few days, and then he would turn manic. One time, when I was nine or ten, he got me super drunk and told me he loved me and that we would go on a trip around the world together. And the next day, he beat the shit out of me and kicked me out. 

“He was manipulative. He made me think he loved me and needed me, and that if I left, he would kill himself, and then he would hurt me and say awful things to me. I defended him every time, because I knew he was sad, and I knew there was something seriously wrong with him. Looking back on it, he really needed help. But I stopped trying to justify his actions as I got older because there’s no excuse to hurt a child like that. 

“In high school, I knew that I wanted to get out and the only way to do that was to do really well in school, so I got perfect grades and applied for a bunch of scholarships. I was able to go to school here, in Seoul. I basically learned Korean in one year. When I moved, I was so happy, I thought it was a new beginning. I thought I would get a degree and start a new life in a country that wasn’t Australia. I made some friends, I partied, I studied a lot. Nothing was better, though, and it was really disappointing. 

“I started to feel really depressed. I just had this slump, where I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t eat or sleep or have fun. All I could do was study and go to work and lay in my bed, feeling like everything was dark and sad, and like I’d never be able to escape. I thought it would go away after a while, but it didn’t. It just stayed. It got worse and worse. I started taking everything to heart, even if it wasn’t directed at me, or if it was a joke or sarcastic. Sometimes if it was a compliment, even. I found ways to make it negative. I would have panic attacks every time I slept, so I stopped sleeping. I lost, like, forty pounds. I was basically just running on empty all the time. And, I decided I was done living. So… I tried to kill myself. 

“Obviously it didn’t work. My roommates found me. One of them is still scarred from it. He has PTSD because he was the first one to find me, and he always finds ways to blame himself. My other roommate dealt with it better. He’s older than me. I guess the thing I most regret was ever thinking that nobody cared, and that there was nothing left for me. I hurt my friends. I hurt the people I loved. And…” 

Chan couldn’t continue, because he felt something big and harsh in his chest, rising up his esophagus, spreading into his face. His throat. His eyes. And it was released in a cough. 

Well, it wasn’t really a cough, because when he coughed, tears fell from his eyes and he started shaking. 

He could barely see. His heart was beating so fast and he was sweating and he couldn’t stop the painful sobs that forced their way out of his throat and caused his chest and core to convulse. 

“It’s okay, Chris.” Felix said, this time. He took the psychologist in his arms, holding him close, running his hand up and down his back in a repetitive, comforting pattern. “Things happen. It’s not your fault.” 

Chan could barely breathe. 

“Come on, Chris.” Felix was rocking him back and forth. His voice was so deep and soothing. “You can cry. You can be sad. I won’t judge you.” 

Chan lost it. It hurt to cry like that. It felt like crying as a child, so hard that it hurt his chest. When you’re too young to regulate your tears. When it all just comes out and pours until it’s done. He forgot everything. All that he knew was that something  _ hurt _ so bad. It hurt every particle of his body and every neuron in his brain. It hurt too much. 

“I’m here, Chris. It’s okay.” 

It was the first time Chan had heard English spoken in such a comforting way. It was the first time the language his father used to manipulate and hurt him was used to do the opposite—to build him up, to make him feel warm again, to bring back his light and take away his suffering. 

There were stars floating in the room, swirling around in the air, making everything glow soft yellow. The walls, the floors, the stairs, the doors, the counters, the table, the couch, Minho sleeping in the next room, the body he was crying into. Felix. Felix was soft yellow. Little Chris was soft yellow. 

Little Chris was there, and he was back. 

He had never left. 

He had never been relieved of his pain. 

But now Chan could see it. 

The path ahead to take the weight off the poor kid’s shoulders. 

To do what he hadn’t done. What he had gotten a psych degree and dealt with countless patients and still had never done. 

To let it go, and to let him heal.

He was so exhausted. His body felt like lead. He felt so hot and sweaty and shaky and swollen from crying, but he felt lighter in a way he hadn’t felt for a long, long time. 

Probably never before. 

“You should go to bed, Chris.” Felix said, brushing the older’s tears away with his thumbs. “Here, I’ll help you. You look really tired, and I know you said you have trouble sleeping.” 

Chan didn’t say anything. He just let Felix pull him into his room and tuck him into his bed, jeans on and everything. It didn’t matter. He could barely feel it. 

“Thank you, Chris.” Felix said in such a soft voice that it melted into Chan’s ears like butter. “Thank you for being honest. Thank you for trusting me with that.” 

Chan couldn’t say anything before sleep had swallowed him up and closed his eyes and made everything quiet for the time being. Quiet. 

Until he would wake up the next morning. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Shrike" by Hozier.
> 
> Quick note, in no way am I trying to spread negativity to those with bipolar disorder. I know people who have it and I know that not everyone with it acts like Chan's dad in this fic, just like I know that some people are good people and some people aren't. Please don't think I'm equating his mental illness with his abusive behavior. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! <33


	11. if i want to die, i'll strive to live as much as i want to die

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're nearing the end of this! Just one more chapter after this one and then it's over! Thank you to everyone who has been reading this story and being so nice to me. It makes me so happy to see all of your kudos and comments! <333
> 
> TW for mention of past suicide attempt, mention of PTSD, mention of self-harm.

Felix woke up to a light that glowed through his eyelids and the sound of a television playing the morning news. 

He felt strangely comfortable, wrapped in a fuzzy blanket, body resting on what seemed to be a sofa. He didn’t open his eyes or move at first, debating about whether to go back to sleep or not, but when he heard the sound of a coffee maker, he opened his eyes. He definitely was not back at his apartment. 

It took him a few seconds to remember where he was and what had happened the night before. The close call on the bridge, and the conversation with Chris. He yawned, sitting up, to see someone he had never met. The guy looked fairly young (probably younger than Chris) with strikingly handsome features, wearing a cat t-shirt that had an obscene amount of holes in it. He was sipping from a cat mug as an actual cat sat on his lap. Felix was too groggy to do much of anything, so he only stared at the man with a puzzled look on his face. When their eyes met, the guy jumped, splashing some of his coffee onto the cat, which screeched and hopped off his lap. 

“No, Dori! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to!” he wailed, setting the cup down on the coffee table and turning his attention back to Felix. “You scared the living hell out of me. Do you know how freaky it is to turn your head just to see someone staring into your soul?” 

“S-sorry…” Felix said timidly, turning his attention down to the floor. The guy’s expression immediately softened and he smiled, playfully (although his smile seemed to resemble an evil smirk more than anything else). 

“It’s fine. You must be Felix, Chan-hyung’s little Aussie double.” he said. “I’m Minho, Chan-hyung’s roommate.”

“U-um, it’s nice to meet you, Minho-ssi.” Felix stuttered, awkwardly, causing Minho to giggle. 

“You really are a cutie. No wonder Chan-hyung spoke about you like you were his child. He was like ‘don’t wake Felix up he had a long night’ and then he texted me asking if I could make sure you don’t get super confused when you wake up. He’s at work, if you were wondering. Unfortunately, Chan-hyung’s nine-to-five psych duties aren’t the few-times-a-week shifts I have. I’ve got the whole day off. Can you believe that?” 

“Are you the nurse?” Felix suddenly sneezed. His head hurt. 

“Yeah. And it looks like you’re under the weather.” 

“I felt fine last night. I just had a headache.” 

“That’s the nature of colds. Here, let me take your temperature. I’ll get you some orange juice. The vitamin C will help you recover faster.” 

Minho stood up, and as he was retrieving the thermometer, Felix thought about what Chris had told him the night before. About how his younger roommate had found him after his suicide attempt and was dealing with PTSD as a result. Minho seemed so confident and independent that Felix never would have guessed. He supposed that was the nature of mental disorders—they can affect anyone. 

“Open your mouth, _aaah_ —” Minho said, as if he were talking to a child. “Don’t worry, I disinfected it.” Felix opened his mouth, sheepishly. “That’s a good boy.” Minho slid the thermometer under his tongue, having him close his mouth until it beeped. 

“Do I have a fever?” Felix asked. 

“Nope. You’re normal. I bet it’ll go away in a day or two. Why don’t you hang out here to rest? I don’t know if Chan-hyung would like me setting you off into the big, bad world with a cold. Also, I can tell he likes talking in English with someone. You know, when I first met him, he had this thick accent. When he was laughing, his Korean would sound like Australian English, and we’d all be like ‘what did you just say?’. It was funny.” 

Minho handed Felix the glass of orange juice and forced him to drink all of it. 

“You remind me of him, actually, back when he was younger. He was super shy. It was cute. He got over the shyness when he learned more Korean. Your pronunciation is a lot better than his was back in college.” 

Felix looked at Minho and put the pieces together. He was traumatized and he was afraid, but he loved Chris and he tried his hardest to be there for him. Chris felt like a burden on Minho, but Minho spoke about him so lovingly that Felix couldn’t imagine Minho agreeing. Felix supposed everyone had thoughts that lingered in their heads and manifested into beliefs that dictated their actions. Even his former doctor. It made him wonder if Soobin and Seungmin had truly been as disturbed as he had thought. 

“I know this sounds kinda… Invasive, or TMI or something…” Minho said, suddenly looking less confident than he had previously. His hands were clenched together tightly and his eyes were intense. “But I think Chan-hyung will get better if he spends more time around you. Since you seem to understand each other. I’ve never been able to really understand him, and it would definitely help him to have a friend who gets what he’s feeling.” 

“Minho-ssi…” Felix mumbled. “Chris told me last night that he never blamed you for everything. He said that you blame yourself for what happened, but it’s not your fault. When… When things are really bad for me, I don’t want to talk about it because I feel like I’ll be a burden, and then they get worse. If he didn’t talk to you and if he tried to hide it, it’s not your fault for not knowing what to do.” 

Minho went silent for a few seconds, before standing up and taking his mug to the sink, where he started to rinse it off. He spoke eventually. 

“Felix, I’ve been told that a million times, and I appreciate it every time. I try to believe it every time. But I’ve still got a ways to go before I do. That’s okay, though. I don’t have to feel better right now, as long as it’s going to come at some point.” 

What Minho was feeling was…different…but also so similar. It started to show Felix that illnesses like depression had an impact that spread far beyond just the person suffering from it. It affected everyone around them, and, for the people who cared, hiding it would only make everything worse. Chris hid it from his friends, and he refused to talk, and it almost killed him. It caused his friend to develop PTSD. It put a weight of anxiety on his friends’ shoulders because they weren’t sure if they could trust him to take care of himself or not. Felix thought about how tough being in such a situation must have been. 

_“Your depression is affecting you more than anyone else, but it’s also affecting everyone else.”_ Chris had told him once, at the hospital. _“Ending it all or running away or cutting ties with everyone you know isn’t the answer. What you need to do is look at yourself, ask yourself what you need, and put time and effort into recovering.”_

Chris had been speaking entirely from experience, and that made his words so much more meaningful to Felix. 

Did Chris see Felix as his younger self? 

Did he feel like helping Felix was taking a weight off of his own shoulders? 

Preventing what had happened to him from happening to Felix? 

He could tell Chris hadn’t gotten the closure he needed yet. 

But something inside Felix told him that it was coming. 

Soon. 

“Minho-ssi…” Felix began in a hoarse voice. 

“Call me hyung. You might as well, since you’re practically Chan’s son now.” 

Felix smiled before saying, “I was talking to some new friends. Or, are they friends? They might be more like acquaintances, but… They’re the closest to friends I’ve ever gotten. I was playing Mario Kart with them, and then one of them tripped over my arm when he was walking and it started bleeding and they… They saw, um… They saw my scars. So I ran because I thought nobody would want to be friends with someone who’s screwed up. I thought that they thought I was gross or weird. Do you think that’s true?” 

Minho just sat next to Felix, saying, “Are we talking about Soobin and Seungmin?” 

“H-how did you know?” 

“Small world. First, I’m going to tell you that having a few scars doesn’t take away your ability to be an interesting person and a good friend. Second, I’m going to tell you that everyone has baggage so it’s just unrealistic to expect everyone in your life to be untouched. Thirdly, I’m going to tell you that you’re sweet and friendly and there’s no reason why they wouldn’t like you. And… Seungmin called Yujun-hyung, his brother who is also our roommate, in a panic, asking if you were okay last night. He said you weren’t answering their texts and all of their calls went to voicemail. He said that you know Chan-hyung, and wanted to know if you were safe. Yujun-hyung said you were here and you were safe. Soobin apologized for making you feel uncomfortable. And they might be coming over right now to see you. Sorry for the late notice.” 

Felix opened his mouth to ask questions, when the doorbell rang and Minho stood up, saying, “That must be them.” Eyes growing wide, Felix turned his exposed arms so that the scars faced his stomach, which was bubbling with anxiousness that had gone from zero to one-hundred in the span of a couple seconds. The door opened, and there stood Felix’s coworker and his roommate, looking ten times more polished than Felix had ever looked (especially now that he had just woken up and was wearing his former therapist’s baggy clothing). 

“I’m so glad you’re okay, Felix!” Soobin exclaimed, running toward him and wrapping his arms around the (much) shorter guy. It made Felix feel small for the first second, until he realized that he felt warm, and that he felt safe. There was something about Soobin that seemed so safe and genuine that Felix felt bad for ever doubting him. “Oh, my god, we were so worried. I’m sorry about what happened. We should have listened to you.” 

“N-no, it’s okay.” Felix said. “You were trying to help me. I was bleeding. I guess I just kinda… Panicked. I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize for having feelings, Felix.” Soobin said, pulling back and looking into Felix’s eyes with a stern and caring expression. “Everyone has feelings. Everyone reacts to things differently. You should never be sorry for feeling sad or scared or angry about something.” 

“Did you take care of the cut?” Seungmin asked. Felix opened his arms, expecting a hug, before Seungmin shook his head and stepped back. “I don’t like hugs. They make me uncomfortable. But… here.” 

Seungmin held out a hand and Felix took it. Their hands were clasped together for a couple seconds before Seungmin pulled away, looking a little tense but not irritated. He must have done that for Felix. Just for Felix, to show him that he cared. It made Felix feel so touched. 

“Uh, yeah…” Felix said, debating whether or not to show his bandage. He stared down at it pensively. “Chris cleaned it up for me.” 

“Hey, and about, um… What happened,” Soobin said in a soft and gentle voice. “We weren’t grossed out or disturbed. We may have been worried, but there’s nothing about you that’s turning us away from being friends with you. I don’t know you that well, but I can already tell you’re such a warm-hearted person, and that means so much more to me than what you look like or anything like that. I’m really glad we met.” 

Felix felt slightly uneasy, but it wasn’t bad. It wasn’t the kind of uneasy you felt when you knew you were in a dangerous situation. It was the type of uneasy that came when you were pushing through a barrier—taking a step forward. _Growing_. So Felix put his arms down, letting them hang at his sides. 

It made him think of what Chan had told him the night before, about how Felix made him realize things about himself. 

How he needed to stop hiding and running and pretending he was okay when he wasn’t. 

Felix decided that he would try to do the same thing. 

“So who’s up for some Smash?” Seungmin exclaimed, causing everyone (except Minho, who was glaring at them with a weirdly fond expression for no reason) to cheer. 

“That sounds fun!” Felix said, because it did. 

* * * * *

“Jeongin’s gonna be living with Changbin until I get discharged.” 

Hyunjin was speaking softly, almost unsurely, but there was something closer to hope and farther from guilt in his voice. The treatment was working, and Hyunjin was close to starting remission. Despite the fact that Yujun had known the entire time that Hyunjin’s leukemia was “the best type of leukemia to get”, it was still a giant relief to see hope for him. 

“Thank you so much, Dr. Kim.” Hyunjin said, sincerity in his eyes. “You’ve been great. You helped me and Jeongin so much—more than I ever asked for or expected—and I just feel really grateful to be in this position. It makes me think that I’m actually pretty lucky to be where I am. I… I used to think that all doctors did was run tests and diagnose people and take home their giant paychecks, but I was so wrong. I feel like an idiot for ever, ever thinking that.” 

“Being a good doctor is a lot more than just knowledge. There’s a certain mindset that goes along with it.” 

“When I was modelling, the doctors I saw would take my weight and measurements, and then they would tell me to eat certain foods so I could stay in shape. I hated seeing them because it felt like I was being grilled all the time. I was afraid they’d just look at me and automatically see the ramyeon I’d eaten the night before in my eyes or something.” 

“Not everything can be fixed with drugs. I learned that lesson pretty early on. I learned that in college, when my best friend was struggling and needed my help. Sometimes security and trust can do a lot more than medication.” 

“Now that things are looking up… It makes me realize that I didn’t have to be so uptight. I kinda wish I’d taken it easy from the start, then I’d probably be a lot less stressed out now.” 

“Everyone learns that at some point, and most times they learn it a little too late. Especially when it comes to things that are out of their control. I often tell my patients that when they try to control things that can’t be controlled, they’re only setting themselves up for failure. You can’t control the fact that you’re sick, but you can control what you do about it, both for you and for the people you care about.” 

Hyunjin smiled. 

“And it never even occurred to me that I just took a break from all the fashion designers who said I looked bad in their clothing! What was I thinking? And, like, I didn’t look bad in it, though? I looked good as fuck, they just couldn’t see it. I bet they were jealous.” 

“That’s always good.” Yujun chuckled.

* * * * *

Even if his sleep had been harshly cut off at a measly three hours when his alarm went off, Chan had slept better than he had for a long time. 

No nightmares that woke him up in a cold sweat with a churning stomach. 

Not sleep that was so light that he barely felt rested. 

Not sleep that was split into small intervals as he woke up throughout the night. 

Walking out the door, he looked down at Felix’s sleeping form on the couch and thought of the stars that floated in the house. He thought of the glow. He thought of his old self. And he wanted to protect Felix for as long as he lived, because if Felix was protected, so was he. So was Little Chris. 

At work, he still felt drowsy, and his hands were shaking. His mind was still exhausted and he could barely think straight. Several times, his heart threatened to beat out of control. He didn’t feel like he was in the right state to be working, but he was still there, as always. 

He was no longer struggling financially, but he still lived like he was. 

“I’m sorry, guys.” Chan said, weakly, the palms of his hands pressed firmly against his eyes. He couldn’t stop shaking. He felt so pathetic. “I shouldn’t be like this. I should be doing my job.” 

“Here, Dr. Bang,” Jisung said, sweetly, pulling a file off of Chan’s desk. “Why don’t you take a break? And later, if you have a hard time reading reports, we could read them out to you. We could help you sort through things. I could take a couple patients off your hands for you.” 

Chan sighed, reaching his arm out to take the file back, not realizing that his sleeves were rolled up. Changbin caught his arm, observing the scars with a concerned expression on his face. 

“You know, Dr. Bang…” Changbin began. “You don’t need to pretend you’re okay because you’re a doctor. You don’t need to feel ashamed for struggling. Especially not around us.” 

“I’m sorry you have to see me like this. I’m your boss and I’m acting like your patient. God, this is pathetic.” 

“It’s not pathetic.” Jisung said, defensively. “It’s relatable. It’s human. Having struggles doesn’t make you weak or less competent. Changbin-hyung and I have been through a lot, and that’s why we're here. We decided to be psychologists specifically _because_ we had a hard time and we wanted to take the burden off of other people’s shoulders. If you need a break, take a break. You’ve worked enough overtime to have earned a few mental health days. You deserve it.” 

The situation was kind of funny in an ironic sort of way. Chan was a supervisor, being counselled by his two interns. Nevertheless, he felt a little better. Not to mention he was incredibly proud of the two interns for being so pragmatic and thoughtful—traits that would only make them better clinical psychologists, themselves. They were his two kids, and now they were all grown up… 

“If you ever need to talk about anything, Dr. Bang,” Changbin said. “We’re here. You can talk. We’re happy to listen.” 

Chan was going to come up with an excuse. He was going to say he was fine and it was just a one time thing. But then he realized that would be ridiculous and counterintuitive. So he just nodded and said: 

“Thank you.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Moonchild" by RM.


	12. it's hard to dance with the devil on your back, so shake him off

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually got very emotional finishing this chapter because it's over... I can't even put to words how thankful I am for everyone who's been commenting and giving kudos and reading all of these chapters, even when I took a break! It makes me really happy to see people enjoying what I write! Thank you so much! You all are great and awesome and spectacular and brilliant and I love you! <333 
> 
> I'm kind of a boomer with social media so I don't have a twitter, but if you want to keep up with me I'm writing another SKZ fic rn. The genre is different, but it's out there if you want to read it (no pressure tho, you don't have to and you might not like it and that's totally fine). 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this last chapter! *cries*

1 YEAR LATER

It had been a stressful day at work, but Chan was happy to say that things were better. 

Felix had been the one to suggest him getting help again. At first, Chan was opposed to the idea, feeling as though he didn’t have the time. He thought there wouldn’t be a single thing another therapist would know that he hadn’t tried already. He thought that the tricks just didn’t work on him. At first, asking Chan to go to therapy again was like asking a high school teacher to go back to high school as a student. 

_ “You sound ridiculous, Chris-hyung.” _ Felix had told him.  _ “Just go.”  _

So Chan did, and he was lucky that the person Minho had booked him an appointment with ended up being agreeable and extremely good at her job. Chan was interested to learn more about the world of private practice, and the environment just seemed cozier than the hospital. Jihyo’s office was warm and homy, with cream walls and couches covered in fluffy throw pillows. She even insisted she go by her first name, unlike what Chan generally did at the hospital. 

_ “I understand why you feel uncomfortable doing this,” _ Jihyo had told him once.  _ “I’m also a psychologist. But I also understand that when someone needs help, they need help. When my daughter was having anxiety issues that were making her refuse to go to preschool, I took her to see a psychologist. Not me. I took her to see someone who was experienced in child psychology. You’re working at Yellow Wood, you see patients dealing with things that cut them off from their normal day-to-day life. You’re not a patient at the hospital, so why shouldn’t you need a counselor who works with people navigating their daily lives?”  _

It made a lot of sense, actually. It was helpful to get a second opinion. When Chan started to feel better, he barely even realized it. The change had been so gradual, but when he looked back, his mind was blown at the progress he had made. It was better than ever before. He legitimately couldn’t remember feeling this balanced in his entire life. He had forgotten how amazing it felt to live, and now it was all there in front of his eyes. 

It wasn’t as colorful as he would have liked sometimes. 

Sometimes it was dreary. 

Sometimes he felt hopeless. 

But he was making progress, and that meant the world to him. 

It made him realize how unmotivated he had been to recover the first time he broke down. He had been so unaccustomed to the idea of comfort that he strived for functionality over joy. He strove for routine over motivation. And while it was good to keep pushing through the good and bad days, it was also good to enjoy them, or at least appreciate them as they pass. 

Felix moved out of his depressing apartment and stayed with Chan, Yujun, and Minho for a couple months, until Seungmin and Soobin graduated from college and moved into a larger apartment. He moved in with them, since the three had grown to be such good friends. Luckily, the medical school Seungmin was going to and the graduate school Soobin was going to were in the same general area, making the situation possible. 

Changbin and Jisung finished their internship. Chan had outright cried on their last day, despite the fact that they would still be seeing each other as friends. 

_ “They’re like my babies…” _ Chan had sobbed that night, to Minho and Yujun’s amusement.  _ “And they’re grown up… How did that happen?” _

_ “God, hyung.” _ Minho had said, brushing a tear off of Chan’s cheek.  _ “I feel like you’re overestimating Jisung. However old he gets or however far he gets in his career, he’s always going to be a twelve-year-old at heart, unfortunately.”  _

Chan also couldn’t deny tearing up (and maybe sobbing) again when the two former interns sent him a photo of themselves dressed in their respective work attire. 

_ “Chan-hyung! They’ve literally been adults for years! It’s not their first day of kindergarten! If you want to know shocked, you should have seen my face when I found out Jisung would be graduating high school. I swear, he was thirteen for about seven years in my mind…”  _

Nevertheless, Chan was genuinely surprised at how quickly Changbin and Jisung got used to calling him “hyung” instead of “Dr. Bang”. As a matter of fact, it made him question the respect they had for him in the first place, resulting in a ridiculous confrontation that caused Felix to laugh so hard he choked on his food and had to be given the Heimlich maneuver by Minho. 

_ “Were you guys calling me hyung behind my back when I was your boss? Did you see me in my office and just think, ‘oh there’s our big brother Chan’? Huh? Because it seems to me like you’ve been practicing calling me hyung for a while!”  _

_ “Don’t hurt me, hyung!” _ Jisung had fake-whined in an annoying baby voice.  _ “I’m too young to die!” _

_ “I’m nowhere near you, Jisung! Does it look like I have my fist raised like ‘oh, I’m ready for some Han Jisung blood tonight’? And why would I  _ hit _ you?!”  _

_ “Minho-hyung! Make him stop yelling at me! It’s  _ scawwy _!”  _

Minho had simply smacked Jisung over the head with a spatula and said,  _ “Shut the fuck up, Jisung, before I lock you in the basement—because  _ you know _ I will.”  _

Hyunjin went into remission, and after a year, he was doing surprisingly well. While he still wasn’t completely in the clear, things were looking more positive than negative. His hair grew back and his glow returned. It was unfair how quickly his ethereal beauty had been restored. While he and Yujun were friendly with each other after his release, what really connected him to the group was his friendship with Changbin and Jeongin’s connection to Seungmin. As Changbin and Jisung grew closer to Chan, Hyunjin grew closer to the older friends in the household, as well as Seungmin, Soobin, and Felix, who spent a great deal of their time at the house (mostly because of the amazing WiFi and cute cats). 

As for Felix, after a year, he was looking a lot better. Chan was surprised at how healthy and happy he looked. He still got quiet sometimes, and called Chan in tears late at night after a bad day, but he had something he’d never possessed before, which was love. 

_ “Soobin… He doesn’t have depression as bad as mine, and he had a good upbringing, but… It just feels like he understands me. Even though things have been different for him, I feel understood when I’m around him. Seungmin, too, but I know that things were harder for him.” _ Felix had told Chan once after one too many drinks (he was a very sentimental drunk, as Chan had learned). 

_ “That’s because he cares about you, and he respects you.” _ Chan had responded, simply, because it really, truly  _ was _ that simple. There was a reason why Chan could empathize with patients dealing with issues far different from what he’d experienced. It was because he listened to them and he cared about them and he did what he could to help. 

It was a cool day when Chan stepped out of the hospital, ready to walk back home. He had been stressed, and his sleep had been the worst all week, and it completely slipped his mind that it was his own birthday until one of his coworkers brought it up. 

It didn’t matter. Chan had never been wished a happy birthday until starting college, so he was used to it. Yujun and Minho often had to force him to sit down to blow out a candle or scold him for trying to repay them for the birthday gifts they gave him. It just wasn’t something he was accustomed to—being congratulated for living another year. He hadn’t  _ earned _ anything, and why did the day have to be about  _ him? _ Holidays, at least, were about everyone, but this was about  _ him. _ It seemed fake. 

Nevertheless, Yujun and Minho hadn’t as much as acknowledged him that morning, and Felix hadn’t sent him a birthday text. As a matter of fact, nobody had texted him all day and he was starting to worry. Had something happened? Were his friends upset? Did they just flat out  _ forget _ his birthday? 

Maybe he slightly enjoyed fighting them off when they tried to spoil him. Just a little bit. Maybe it felt the slightest bit good to be appreciated (not that he would ever admit it). 

When Chan opened the door to the house, everything was dark, and he assumed everyone was either sleeping or partying, since it was the weekend. He slipped his shoes off and sighed, exhausted from the long day and starving from forgetting to eat (he really tried not to forget, but with his busy schedule it often made the task difficult). 

He set his bag down and rubbed his eyes, beginning to walk toward the dark kitchen, when suddenly the lights turned on and there was an explosion of confetti and “happy birthday”s. A pair of arms wrapped themselves around his neck and a cardboard hat was placed atop his curly hair. 

He stood there, blinking in shock, for a few seconds before taking in his surroundings. The person hugging him was a very giddy and smiley Felix. The person adjusting the hat on his head so that the string was tucked under his chin was Minho. The person holding a cake a few feet away was Changbin. The person who wouldn’t stop shouting and throwing confetti around was Jisung. The person safeguarding a table covered with gifts was Jeongin. The person cracking open a bottle of soju was Hyunjin. The person running toward Changbin with a box of matches was Yujun. The person sending Jisung a death glare in response to the noise was Seungmin. And the person standing (taller than everyone else) with a big smile on his face was Soobin. 

“Get off him, Felix, so he can blow out the candles.” Jisung said in a cheerful voice, attempting to shower Chan with confetti. 

“Don’t forget to wish for something, hyung!” Felix exclaimed, hopping around unconsciously in excitement. 

They started to sing, and then Chan blew out the candles, not quite sure what to wish for. Good luck, probably. Most everything else he trusted himself to take care of. 

All of them were full of cake and slightly tipsy by the time Chan got to opening his presents. The pile was daunting, and he obviously complained about it, but, deep down, he was so happy. He felt so loved. He appreciated every gift he’d received, but the one that stood out the most to him was Felix’s. 

Felix had given him a box full of Australian snacks. Chan remembered seeing those snacks during his darkest days, but they weren’t dark anymore. Not when he was surrounded by so much light. He opened the card, and a folded up piece of paper fell out. He unfolded it to see a letter written in English. 

  
  


_ Dear Chris,  _

_ I’m so glad I can be here to celebrate your birthday with you. I’m so glad that we are friends. I still can’t believe that we met a year ago, when I was at the hospital. I look back at myself then and I feel almost like a different person. I can speak English and listen to English all I want now without getting upset. Whenever I’m sad about something, I have people to talk to. Even though I often feel like I should keep things to myself for the sake of my friends, I try my hardest to push through it.  _

_ Even though it’s your birthday, I think the thing I most want to say to you right now is thank you. Thank you for everything you’ve done for me over the past year. Thank you for staying by my side when I was struggling. Thank you for thinking so much about me even when you are hurting, yourself.  _

_ Thank you for trying really hard to get better, yourself. Thank you for overcoming those obstacles so that you wouldn’t have as much of a burden on your shoulders. Thank you for being honest and open. Thank you for facing your fears. Thank you for loving yourself and taking time for yourself. I’m probably most thankful for that.  _

_ Not only am I so happy to see you feeling better, but you also inspire me to work hard, myself, at everything, inside and out. Thanks to you, I started thinking about what I want to do and what I want to have. I started working toward my own goals and making my own plans. I started putting my health first. I changed so many of my habits because you inspired me to.  _

_ One of the things I’ve been trying to do recently is reassociating things from my bad memories with good memories. I already did it with English. It’s amazing how much that can help. I figured that you probably haven’t had these snacks in a long time, and what better way to try them again than with all of your friends on your birthday? We can also let the others try them because they’ve never been to Australia. It’ll be so much fun!  _

_ Anyway, Chris, thank you so much for everything. You probably don’t think you’re capable of having such a big impact on someone’s life, but you are. Everyone here is thankful for you for their own reasons, and all of them are important. You’re really important.  _

_ Make sure to keep fighting because you deserve to be happy!  _

_ Love,  _

_ Felix _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Shake it Off" by Florence + The Machine. 
> 
> Don't forget that you're worth the whole world! Even if you don't believe it, I do, so get used to it!! **gives bone-crushing virtual hugs** Make sure to take care of yourselves and keep fighting because you deserve it! I believe in you! I wish the absolute best for you! <333 :""))


End file.
